#fireman carry his ass to safety

[grapecaseschoices]

their height differences *twirls hair*

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Fully-formed modern first date fic idea that just sproinged into my brain. Stede invites Ed to walk a botanical garden with him and Ed agrees because he already loves seeing Stede nerd out over plants. Except Ed's nervous so he forgets to really eat or drink anything before their mid-afternoon date, and it's SO fucking hot and his blood sugar is way dropping. He tries to pretend he's absolutely fine, but after about an hour that turns into "hey Stede wow look isn't that flower so cool haha yeah, that's awesome, man it's really hot don't you think it's hot? I'm just gonnnnnaaa sit down right here in the middle of the path i think haha would you still love me if i passed out a bit oh dammit here i go -"

Stede being Stede, he immediately picks up his poor unconscious boyfriend in a fireman's carry and hauls ass the two miles back to the visitor's center, where he learns there was a rest stop five minutes from their location when Ed passed out. He sprained his back carrying Ed and didn't even notice in his adrenaline-fueled "get Ed to safety" mission. They end their date sharing candy bars at the local ER, annoying the other people in the lobby because Ed's still very out of it and keeps crying because "his candy bar keeps disappearing??" as he eats it and Stede keeps comforting him like he's a poor princess suffering the greatest injustices ever

Anyway that night Fang texts Ed to ask how the date went and all he gets back is a single text that goes "hopital 🙂"

[captain-mj]

Can you do where Graves gets captured by enemies and Price (solo) goes and rescues him without anyone knowing until he comes back with Graves in his arm?

Sure!!

Price slowly packed each of his guns, working out the exact amount of ammo he'd need for each one. His thoughts were a mile a minute, but his hands moved smoothly. Not a single sign of the vibrating anxiety and adrenaline he was feeling right now. He was used to this though. This rolling feeling. Just never had to deal with it quite like this.

Missing in Action. His love was missing.

Price had to get him back. Immediately.

Graves was a Commander. He was extremely capable and that made him even more nervous. Who ever got him was either really good or a lucky bastard. Either way. Their luck wouldn't last.

Price got the rest of his gear on and simply left their hideout. Only Ghost noticed him who simply nodded and promised to keep watch of the Sergeants.

He felt this itch against his skin. Desperation to get him back. Put him between his legs and hold him to his chest. He should've done something differently. Price wasn't sure yet what he could've done differently, but Graves was working with them and was technically under his command. They were a rank apart, but Price was still higher and therefore he should've been watching for him. Should've kept everyone safe and he had fucked up.

Graves would kick his ass for thinking that way. He'd insist that he was fine and that it was his mistake. Or he'd simply tell Price to not be an idiot and that he was fine.

Price started where he last saw Graves. The branches and grass in the area were smashed down in a rather obvious trail. Probably assumed no one would go after him again. But Price was never one for leaving people behind.

His gun stayed firmly in his hands, sight ready to go for the first moment he saw someone. He saw one of those fuckers and sniped them. An easy shot. There a building nearby that looked like it had guards patrolling.

Price perched in a nice spot that gave him a good view of everything. He timed them all and waited until he got a handle of their routine.

Two options. Sneak in or go in blazing.

The angry part wanted to go in blazing but there was a risk there. A risk he didn't want to have. Gambling with Graves's life... unsettled scared him to hell and back him. So he decided to just roll with this. That's all he had to do. Get in. Get Graves. Go home.

Price searched through the building. Real slow and real quiet. He switched to his knife and hid the bodies as he went. One by one, he cleared out as many as he could. Once he had Graves, he wanted it to be a smooth get away. His safety was top priority.

They had Graves stuffed in a basement, hanging by his wrists. Luckily not bloody, just a little roughed up. Probably left to focus on other things.

Graves looked small. Bruised and a little dazed. His eyes were closed right now, but his breathing was a little too low and even for him to be asleep.

"Love."

Graves quickly looked up. "John?? What do you think You're doing??"

Price started to cut him free. "Rescuing you."

"You idiot. What if we both get caught?"

"Then we'll be caught together."

Graves shook his head but as soon as his feet touched the ground, he collapsed into Price. "I'm going to be slow."

Price quickly knelt down to look at him, noticing there was some blood on his socks.

There were some deep cuts on his achille's, luckily not severing from what he could see, but it was still deep. Probably so he couldn't run away if he got free.

Luckily Price benched quite a bit and Graves wasn't the heaviest of men. He picked him up and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"This is humiliating." Graves groaned, legs twitching as if in pain. The blood rushing to them must be painful, especially as more blood started to pour out of his ankles.

Price gave him a pistol so he could shoot if anyone came. He started to run as soon as he found the exit, racing towards the hide out as quickly as he could.

As they went, Graves started to make more and more pained noises. It was clear that he was becoming more lucid, but if that was good or bad remained to be seen. Price rubbed his back soothingly, ignoring when Graves started to shoot. He trusted him to watch his back.

They got inside the hideout and Ghost and Gaz took to shooting out of the exits when anyone was stupid enough to poke their heads out. Price laid him on the couch and then joined them in the fire fight, getting everyone down.

Soap, who had learned some more in depth field medical after Los Almas, took a quick look at Graves.

"What's the diagnosis, doctor?"

"We're going to have to amputate both legs." Soap said, laughing half way through. "Fuck, you should be fine. May limp for a while, but we'll check into that later." They managed to fight everyone back and Price could do what he wanted.

Which was fuss over Graves.

Price checked over his hands and over his chest. There were some deep bruising on his ribs which was probably what made being carried so painful. He held on to him tight and Graves grumbled but relaxed.

"It hurts." Graves sighed softly. He melted a little more into Price's grasp. "Might have to carry me to exfil. Only until the clearing though. I'll limp before I let anyone else see me carried like that."

"Alright, love."

Graves nodded and slowly tilted his head to let Price nuzzle into his neck. He felt warm. Almost feverish. He'd keep an eye on that too.

Price gently kissed his forehead.

"You shouldn't have come after me. Glad you did though."

"Couldn't let you die alone."

"How romantic."

[shokuto]

District Zero / The Boys and the Keg

“Why’d you say Spider-Man was gonna be there?!” Miles asks sharply once he and Ganke are walking through the parking lot.

He shrugs, not even looking at him. “We were losing her; we needed a hook.”

“If partying in a big ass house nobody lives in isn’t enough of a hook, why bother? It’s only one girl.”

“It’s not one girl, it’s Amala Macendale!” Ganke reasons. “It’s her, her friends, and her friends’ friends. That’s huge!”

Miles rolls his eyes. His friend’s starting to sound like a club promoter. “I don’t think she has friends.”

“Of course she does, she’s like, student body president. How’d she get voted in if she doesn’t have—“

When they finally hit the minivan, Ganke freezes; there’s a liquor store across the street, and near the front door is a scuffed up metal case bearing a steel tap at the top. He quickly taps Miles’ shoulder with the hand not holding a plastic bag before he points at it.

“Dude, that’s a keg,” he gasps in astonishment.

Miles pauses before he can enter the car, blankly looking over the hood. “Of beer?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“…So what now?”

There’s a second where they both just stand there, gawking across the street. That’s when Ganke taps his shoulder again. “You gotta go grab it.”

Miles sighs again, already exasperated with the sudden turn of events. “Dude, no—”

“You’re the only one who can carry it!”

“That’s stealing,” he says firmly.

“So?” Ganke sets his hands on his shoulders with the urgency of a man begging a fireman to save his baby. “If we don’t have any beer at this thing, we’re gonna be losers forever! It’s one keg! They probably have a hundred more in the back and it’s only a matter of time before they bring it in!”

Miles exhales in annoyance, but considers Ganke’s warning more than he’d like. He’s split firmly between the selfish teenager his friend desperately appeals to, and the little boy inside him who’s internalized every repeated warning to not get into trouble, to follow every rule as closely as possible because there’d always be a book waiting to be thrown at him around every corner. He eyes the keg, then through the window of the store, the guy inside who presumably has to bring it in eventually.

And it is stealing.

But…

They’re throwing something big…and they’re not kids anymore. People their age going to parties don’t go to relax; they go to get fucked up. It’s all he hears and it’s all he sees in the movies.

They even got the red cups and everything now! Plastic cups Miles only now realizes were never gonna be filled with soda.

“It’s either this or we’re cooked,” Ganke pleads.

Quietly, Miles contemplates the lunch periods they’ve spent alone growing up. Every inside joke passed around set cliques that they weren’t a part of, and every classmate who ever took a shot at them or made their friendship out to be something weird ‘cause it was funny. ‘Cause guys like them were easy targets.

Some of those same people would probably be milling about the house Ganke’s mom had just closed the deal on, piss drunk on beer they brought and laughing madly beneath flashing lights they put up. There’s dozens of little jabs they’ve collected over the years, jabs that taught them it was better to keep to themselves lest they add up to even more down the line if nothing changed.

But he could practically see it all evaporate tonight, over music so loud they felt it in their bones and chants so spirited they could summon specters.

He even pictures himself sharing the tap with the pretty girl from homecoming, the one with a voice like silk and a rasp to it that reminded him of a bass string. However heartbroken he may be over Katie, he’s still embarrassingly weak for an easy smile. He’s still a guy.

A minute later, Miles is hefting a metal keg over his shoulder and bolting for the car like a fireman carrying an invalid to safety. His first ever five finger discount.

“Start it up, start it up!” He shouts.

The engine of the shabby old minivan growls to life just as Miles barrels into the backseat, immediately closing the door behind him.

Then they’re off.

“Holy shit,” Ganke gasps behind the wheel, breathing heavy like he was the one doing the running.

And despite himself, Miles feels himself joining in too. He can’t be bothered to drum up any possible theft charges, any tidbits from the stern talking to from his dad would give him if he saw. Instead, he visualizes the gated community of District Zero, lit up like Disneyland.

“This shit’s gonna be crazy,” He mutters warmly.

[millenari]

Munkustrap for the ask game? 🥺

1. Canon I outright reject

I CANNOT find the post but there's this one Jack Rebaldi interview where he mentions something about how 'no one likes Munkustrap because he's the leader and nobody really likes the guy always giving you orders' and as much as I love Jack Rebaldi's Munk I just don't agree with that interpretation. Everybody loves Munk. To Me.

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

On the flip side of Munk actor interviews, Michael Gruber saying

'[Munk is] entrusted with giving the information to the other, maybe younger cats who have not been to the Jellicle Ball before. He gets up and says exactly what they're here to do. He's also caretaker of the kittens. He wants to make sure everybody's safe; in all the Macavity scares, he's there to protect the tribe. So he is the protector'

about Munk is really fundamental for me and how I see Munk, Munk's role in the tribe, and Munk's role in the story.

3. Obscure headcanon

His owner is an old unmarried lady who lives in an apartment by herself; she calls him Felix and he feels responsible for her bc she 'has no colony'.

4. Favorite line

Michael Gruber's American-ass delivery of 'or hairier' in Pekes is my favorite comedy moment in any and all versions of Cats I've seen, it gets me every time.

5. Best personality trait

He cares, deeply and personally, about pretty much everyone, and never hesitates to put himself out there to assist if someone needs it. He's a natural leader and a quick decision maker even under pressure, but he's still patient and compassionate with everyone he meets-- even when he's stressed or angry, he still makes efforts to be kind.

6. Worst personality trait

Munk physically cannot remove himself from a situation if he thinks he's needed, even if he's actively making it worse. He also is one of those people who refuses to let people just vent at him and tries to solve everyone's problems even if they don't want a solution to their problem.

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

Munk is shorter than Tugger but significantly stronger than him, so he can just scoop Tugger up in a fireman's carry and remove him from a situation if he's being annoying.

8. Unpopular opinion about them

Honestly I think I'm even more normie about Munk than about Tugger. I don't think I have any truly unpopular hot takes about him.

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

I do love his part of Jenny's song-- the way he's singing directly to the kittens on the ground, and his section of the song has this lullaby feeling to it that's just so calming and tender. I really love how for that song it's a duet (sort of) between a young dude and an older lady, but the older lady gets the snappy upbeat part and the younger dude gets the slow & sweet part. It really just establishes Munk as this soft and nurturing figure from the beginning.

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

Bway revival Macavity fight imo. It's just so damn good.

11. Faceclaim for the role

Michael Gruber is rlly my Munk, even the unique shape of his wig in 98 sticks out to me as a Fundamental Munk Thing™.

In human aus he's kind of this lighter-skinned 'racially ambiguous' kind of guy with dark hair, smile lines, a little bit of stubble, and a frequently worn sweater vest.

12. Crack headcanon

I feel like his human version would be a Beyonce fan, but like in the cringiest middle-aged-dad way possible.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Munk's always been a pretty level-headed and mature guy, even when he was young, so there isn't much that he's done that I can label as 'stupid' except perhaps jumping into dangerous situations to protect someone without considering his own safety first. My hc for how Plato joined the Junkyard starts with Munk running straight into traffic on a busy street bc he saw baby Plato abandoned between two lanes and petrified from fear.

Random ass kitten Munk had never seen before in his life, and he charged right into mortal danger without a second's thought about it. Brave, but also stupid.

14. Most heroic moment

Munk's doing heroic shit all the time. My previous answer is actually a good example, plus, you know, he's tangled with Macavity more than once.

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

Munkustrap Has Never Done Anything Wrong, Ever, In His Entire Life.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

I don't know if this is 'never admit to himself' levels but Munk wonders a lot if he shares some blame for how Macavity ended up. He and Mac grew up together, and while he always knew his older brother had a temper, he really and truly thought Mac was just rough around the edges, and that he really did care about Munk and the rest of the tribe deep down. But when Macavity betrayed the tribe and started doing Evil Deeds, Munk was left wondering if Macavity had always been rotten deep down, and hid it from all of them for all those years, or if he'd just.... snapped somehow, from the pressure of being Deuteronomy's heir, or something, and maybe there was something Munk could have done to help him before things got too bad.

As is, Munk may never know.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about

Stress & setting too-high standards for himself, probably.

19. Vices/bad habits

Never resting, for one. He basically never gets enough sleep. It's funny, in my human aus both Tugger and Mac suffer from insomnia, but Munk is oftentimes just as sleep deprived as those two despite being the only Deut bro without insomnia, just because he's always doing things. That man is responding to his work emails at 1:24AM for no goddamn reason.

20. Scars

He's got plenty of scars, most of them not huge, but he's been in all sorts of fights and even if asked he wouldn't even be able to identify how or when he got them.

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

I think he drinks wine in one scene in my human/celeb/soulmate fic, otherwise he's a real coffee man.

22. Best physical feature

I don't know what other cats would consider his best feature! By cat standards Munk is a handsome dude, but kind of in a normal, average way. Just, you know, a handsome guy you'd see on the street. Honestly I think his general vibes are his most attractive trait, though that's not physical. But nobody in all the world can look at a large muscular man being sweet and cute and patient with little kids and go 'nah 3/10 for me'.

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

I'm thinking like... forest or campfire or something like that.

24. Most annoying habit

Asking someone to complete a task for him and then changing his mind and completing it himself before they can get to it.

25. 3 things they’d want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

Again I need more details for this question but a book for sure regardless.

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

Munk I think is a pretty boring character as far as getting-stuck-in-an-elevator shenanigans go. Except for Macavity, that would probably be interesting. Anyone else would probably just be the two trying to escape together and then rock paper scissors for the next six hours.

27. Their guilty pleasure

Human Munk probably has a variety of snackies he considers guilty pleasures, like special chocolates or whatever. Cat Munk would probably say it's 'oh sometimes I go off somewhere in the Junkyard by myself and just sit for a while and enjoy the silence' and the person he's talking to is like THATS NOT A GUILTY PLEASURE THATS JUST KEEPING YOURSELF SANE

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

I headcanon Jemima as being Bomba and Macavity's daughter, though this is a fact Bomba very much keeps to herself-- she's only admitted it to two people and Munk is not one of them. However Munk.... has eyes & he's perfectly aware of who Jemima's father is, though he's never gotten Bomba to actually admit it. This kind of creates a. .. . not 'weird' relationship, but a kind-of sad one, because Munkustrap knows he's this delightful little girl's uncle but she doesn't know it in return, and her finding out will probably be more devastating than anything, because it would come with the knowledge of who her father is.

So Munk just kind of has to treat Jemima just like he does the rest of the kittens and keep the knowledge of their relationship to himself, though he's always wanted a big family.

29. Eating habits

Munk is a Deuteronomy, so in both cat and human aus he can eat for fucking forever. Human Munk likes to cook and bake as well, and he and Demeter make their dinner together every afternoon, and very rarely order takeout.

30. Sleeping habits

Whoops, I already talked about this. He doesn't sleep as much as he should, but he sleeps soundly whenever he does get around to putting his head down.

31. If the had a tumblr what would it look like?

Probably politics. Plus some pictures or art or such that he finds interesting.

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

Kittens being cute will very easily get a smile out of him, though he doesn't laugh-laugh terribly often. One thing people don't know about him is that Tugger suffering something that he 1000% brought upon himself absolutely will get an evil grin or two out of Munk.

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

Just like Tugger's answer, Deuteronomy's death. Munk's not a big crier I don't think, but when he does cry he's usually pretty quiet.

34. How they react when they are feeling X emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.—can specify as many as you like)

Most of these I think would result in Munk throwing himself into his work with vigor to get his mind off of the Bad Feelings. Munk's not quick to anger but he is quick to calm down after an outburst, and his excitement is usually going to be expressed through singing or dancing.

35. Their idea of a perfect day

This man will honestly be like 'yeah the perfect day would be a bunch of relaxation with my tribemates watching the kittens play and so on and so forth' and then refuse to stop working for ten minutes to make it happen.

36. Their favorite season

Late winter/early spring, the time of the Jellicle Ball and the incoming of the warm season.

37. What they really think about themselves

Munk struggles a lot wondering if he makes the right decisions as a leader and measures himself up to Deuteronomy all the time. He really wishes he could do more even though he's already always busy, and worries a lot whether the trust that the tribe places in him is justified.

38. Favorite holiday

Christmas bitch. Probably also a thanksgiving bitch as well.

39. Favorite game

He probably likes Monopoly. Like an insane person.

40. Favorite book

I imagine he likes reading but I'm not sure what I would say is his favorite book! He probably likes books about history and such a lot, and the occasional historical fiction.

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

Probably his mother, whom he doesn't remember well.

42. 3 comfort items

UHH for human aus: he loves the old scrapbooks from when he and his brothers were kids, his favorite flannel jacket, and uh........ does his wife count as a comfort item,,,,

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

You KNOW Munk has got to be a steak guy. Unlike Tugger he can probably enjoy a good salad, and box mac and cheese is probably one of those things he whips up every once in a while for childhood nostalgia reasons. There probably aren't a ton of foods Munk even dislikes, much less despises.

44. Their happiest memory

Like I mentioned before, this question is hard for me. I hc that he and Demeter have triplets at some point after the events of the musical, so maybe when they were born.

45. Their favorite celebrity

He seems like the type of guy to like Elvis, idk why.

46. The person they most admire

Deuteronomy. I feel like that one is easy lmao

47. Their dream job

I don't think he really had big career aspirations, more of a family man.

48. Scariest moment of their life

Probably when Macavity betrayed the tribe.

49. Favorite toy as a child

He seems like a stuffed elephant kind of guy. Or maybe his collection of the little green plastic army men.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

I don't think he really has any memories he's consciously or subconsciously blocked out. There are things he tries not to think about or remember, but not on the level of fully blocking anything from his head.

[notmuchtoconceal]

On the multi-tiered dais where father sat, all was in order around him, save for where there was discord -- for around father, all was discord.

As the herdsmen could not maintain their offerings, nor the ritual purity of his martial sons, nor the contemplative awe of those scribes which troubled him, the order father maintained parted into strands of flux, and unjoined and rejoined according to the whims of sub-atomic fluctuations our instruments could not detect, but measure only in probabilities. 

A great bellow seized the room -- shaking it to its foundations. 

- Ah! I aint Columbo! Nuh-uh! I ain't a conveyor-belt douche-nozzle industrial showa fixture! I'm a good Christian Redfield. (Outta left field!) 

It was not father's voice, for he had taken to slumber upon his throne, a chocolate mousse sticky to his shorn cheeks, awash in nostalgic waves of static from a cathode ray cube of Midland Laurentian manufacture -- its primitive display screen subtly bulbous, so from some angles the image would seem to swell as though from a central porthole.

- I'm Columbine High School. I'm Columbus, Ohio. Why, I ain't Magenta, no-siree! Imma entire country of Colombia -- what's left of it anyway!

Cpt. Haruspex was on top of father with a reassuring pat -- whenever he carried his historical meditations into wakingness. 

- It's all right, dad! Nobody's going to ban Doom! Contemporaneously, it's considered a classic! They actually teach it in schools nowadays!

Glass rained down upon his throne, cutting him with frosted sugar.

The wedge of a beam of cast-iron flew across the hall and ricocheted off Cpt. Psychorrhagia's forehead, skidding across the tile into a buffet table manned by none but two wait staff.

He stood there -- a whiplash in his atlas vertebrae, slightly dazed. He was aware the vibrations had shifted the big ugly box on its pedestal -- a charming marble column inlaid with veins of amber and gold dust, whose hand-fissured cracks had sprouted countless buds of gelatin ivy grown from the matter of a thousand pulped honeycombs.

Cpt. Haruspex -- reassurances unceasing -- slid the utility proboscis from his belt, and pinched its neck 3/4ths from the top -- to distend the radial prongs from the node at the bulb of its vertical tip :-- his hand dropping another 3/8ths to twist a concealed dial and distend the membranes by stalks and stretches across the prongs -- creating an umbrella he held between him and the debris as he twirled. 

- You can play it usin nothin but another man's prostate! You can move me around the screen on your inner-eye by makin inputs with my butthole! Pretty as a picto! It's the wonders of technology, dad. 

Shards of glass shimmered in the dense, lacquered pitch of Cpt. Psychorrhagia's clumped and slickened mane.

The portal displayed two images simultaneously -- neither one program, nor the other -- and Cpt. Psychorrhagia twisted the breadth of him along the slender pivot of his waist -- glutes tightening on the final push forward off his boots -- so that he seemed to hang there, in suspended half-motion before you -- the heft of his granite ass – wet as greasy locks pressed against the sheen of his leather. He gripped with the stiffness of his heavy, powerful arms -- so powerful for such a young man -- those slender apparati so much like insect-antennae in wafts until the picture was clear, and with a smoothness similarly half-lubricated retracted his back -- to return to the noble solemnity of his watch -- his eyes always-present on father, glancing from time to time, over to you.

- Would you like to have a go at it right now, dad? You can bet your ass you can bet yours beat! Best off me bein a real rough customer! 

Cpt. Psychorrhax -- in the background -- had already fireman carried one of the injured waitstaff to safety -- and was now hobbling towards the medkit concealed inside an antique radiator with the other. 

The doors of the breakfasting hall, which father had dedicated to his morning leisure, swung open and from their oak-carved scenes of jasper-inlaid pastoral splendor, Cpt. Schreibermachen strolled forward with Cpts. Hlaford and Drythen in the rear -- and stating truthfully, it occurred only now what an odd twosome they must have been. For you had never seen either converse with one another -- only each with Cpt. Schreibermachen or with the other -- and you wondered, with a curiosity you felt alien to you -- the nature of their rapport while on patrol. What the three revealed to one another in the solitary tirades which came about henceforth in the explorations of their hidden talents.

- Splendid news, father!

Joey belted, as a cock would herald the dawn.

:-- We've received word from the grand anarchist council! 

The anarchists of your era -- were well-known for their penchant for publicly-and-outwardly-transacted central organization. 

 -- Their words, father -- are leaden with a certain flamboyance and falsity! There is much about them which is terrible, and much in their implications which is dread and stirring! They would doubtless mortify men of juvenile countenance, and send those bestial among us into fits of rage ;-– allow me to share a few of them with you now!

The words of the anarchists were fit for father's ear --

and so too for personal and public redaction. 

- Damn, Joey.

Cpt. Haruspex swung the umbrella now gently as the fan of a palm.

... Those anarchists sure do have a fancy prose style.

He whistled.

In awe of the beauty and terror of our adversaries.

... I don't think I've ever heard anyone make pronouncements quite that ungainly and dramatic before!

Cpt. Schreibermachen did not clear the air so much as crystallize.

- My being a literary scion in our homeland, Haruspex -- it would not be shocking to expect a few admirers amidst the ranks of our enemies. Poetry is, after all, the great unifier. Were our nation not already well-held in father's soft and pretty baker's hands, I would suggest after a libation and a few rounds of incense, intoxication by rule of a council of muses!

There was something about the golden hours of morning that made Joey seem even more blonde, brainless and vigorously Teutonic than the crisp, dry hues of the noon and after.     

- Scribbles? Scribbles, where'd you go?

Father didn't have his eyes in.

... I been lookin everywhere for you!

Father couldn't see shit when he don't have his eyes in.

... Scribbles? Scribbles, did you bring me my paper?

Joey received him graciously, having much left to deliver.

- Better, father! The hydra which constricts our country has rolled onto its back to expose many miles of its tract of neck! I beseech you, highest and most holy, that I your most gallant son should be best now beset upon this task! Trust in my faith to you, father! ;-- and I shall see our country prosper! I shall see you cherished by the distillations of later generations as not only a conqueror, a philosopher, a reconciler, a mystic, but a playboy, a showman and a boon to the arts! Hear my words, father! Do not strike at your son who prophesies when his every word foretells the shapes of the stars for you! You who are as the crown will shine as a crow in flight as I resculpt the veritable matter of our physiques from the cells up!

Cpt. Haruspex -- out of boredom perhaps -- continued to twirl his umbrella. Light from the membrane which enjoined the flaps streamed through the broken window and illuminated the cloudiness and imperfections of the material -- in their structures, they were as the honeycombs before they had been pulped -- the honied translucence of the leaves shuffling out cloudbursts back into kelpy mass

Cpt. Psychorrhax -- straightening his lapels -- stepped forward.

- May I approach, father?

- No.

- I speak on behalf of Cpt. Schreibermachen, sir. I have personally observed him in his preparations to grip this blight which rots our city-state by its root. He has collected, over the months between now and the last bombing -- which was not (as the odious free press which oppresses your reign reported) a bungled mismanagement of catastrophic negligence which claimed the lives of many comely and able-bodied men -- but a deliberate subversion of your will by hostile forces too alien and microbiological to be glimpsed by the naked eye.

- Whaddya you know? Why ain't Scribbles tellin me this?

- Cpt. Psychorrhax is my closest and most cherished attendant, father! As you yourself know well, the meager details and nuts and rods of the implementation -- the route tedium that comes with putting a plan into action -- these can become obscured from an aerial perspective, being tasks better-handled by those best-suited to crawl along the ground!

Cpt. Schreibermachen's hand -- which had been grasped firmly around Cpt. Psychorrhax's shoulder -- crept now downward, savoring each descent and taper of its journey across the stolid hull of his lats -- 

- That is correct, father!

(This was Psychorrhax talking now)

-- and lower still... down the small of his back --

… very much can pass for human error in the scheme of things :-- particularly in a structure as vast, ornate and precise as our ruling body.

-- where he caressed him by the back of palm --

... there can be equally little doubt, however -- that in a body as broad and yet of deceptively compacted strength as ours --

-- he came down with a smack to cup the pony-like swell of his ass.

… more than an atypical allotment of contaminants will well up! I have seen -- from Cpt. Schreibermachen's reports, no doubt --

-- his smile twists -- catlike.

... much evidence to suggest that many of the incidences of damage to supply lines and other infrastructural failures have been --

He cuts off a moan -- biting his lip.

... especially in an environment so gifted as to receive your rule -- calculated attempts by enemy forces -- less simple wear and tear from constant overuse and a history of negligence which spans backwards decades. No. It only takes a few rogue cells, father --

He gasps -- laughing now.

 -- to create a mass tumescent enough to strangle the organism whole!

Cpt Schreibermachen was laughing, too.

- Joey, don't fondle me in fronta dad -- bro

He sounded way less fuckin stupid when ya wanted to kick his ass.

... he's not gonna take me serious!

Joey was leaning in. Standing upright, he leaned in best.

- You want me to stop?

It wasn't a question. He weren't expecting an answer.

… lil bro?

Cpt. Psychorrhax ceased to breathe as he looked to him

… make me.

Joey knocked off Laika's cap . He had taken him beneath the back of his skull. Was devouring his face. Tasting. On his lips, and on his teeth -- the pungent spices of eggs and sausage -- coffee and the salted butter -- tasting so many amino acids on Laika's lips that were not his own -- and yet which would inevitably become ; -- and Laika looked to him, nearly limp -- that stupid look of someone who had never lost it all, and could expect much, in turn-- lips quivering as he was wolfy and sheepish.

Brux ... continued to twirl.

- No, no -- I think Laik might be onto somethin, dad -- y'know. Literate men -- they're dangerous. They get heads full of ideas. They go around -- given their ideas to other people. Soon people're out -- readin books. Lookin at other people with crazy fancies. Not doin any work. Maybe they're all readin the same book -- who knows? Maybe it's a real popular book! Maybe they wanna go around bullyin ya cause ya don't read their favorite book. They talk about the characters -- y'know. Ya don't know who they are. They use the stories -- as reference points -- like you should know. Gosh, mates -- what's even worse is when there's two people livin in the same area, and they each got their own popular book -- they never get along! All they wanna do is hound ya! They wanna know which book it is ya like more, and don't accept it none when ya say ya ain't read any book -- whaddya mean ya ain't read both their books? Whaddya mean ya haven't picked a favorite (Even fuckin stupider when both their books are by the same author, and it's somethin goofier like... I dunno. The editor or the translator or the commentor or somethin is different, and sometimes it's just the rhymes are different, or maybe there's not one or none, but sometimes it's like... wow, we readin the same story, the same characters? We gettin into some complicated shit, and you're actin like I gotta have my mind made up now. Join your club. Be on your team. Say the exact same magic words when we sit down to try'n have a dinner without killin each other ;-- Holy shit. You book people, I swear!) Like, what's the goddamn matter? I'm sure ya both got great books -- basically I've heard all the stories in em already, been talkin to so many people -- whaddya want me to do, quote it at ya? Make ya feel like we had the same experience cause we stared at the same page? Mate, why don't ya invite me back to your place? We'll read your book -- you can read it to me! We'll get some wine -- sounds sensual. Why can't that be how ya do it, mates? Why can't ya just sit down and read your books to each other instead of tryin to kill each other all the time, huh? What'd those books have to say to make you act this way, goddamn.

Cpt. Psychorrhax ;-- in the intervening moments --; had found himself once more wholly vertical. 

Father meanwhile ... had stopped paying attention.

- All right, kid. Give ya a shot.

He looked first from his nails. Then back to Joey.

... Just don't do anything too crazy. 

Cpt. Schreibermachen ...--... bowed his head.

- I promise, father --...-- to surpass every example you have set for me.

( o )

Joey took to the square – and fired his pistol at each malfunctioning light fixture so that upon the crowds a spring rain fell one day, at the points in the interwoven lattice where heat met once more the dry brown leaves. 

 - ANARCHISTS, ANARCHISTS COME OUT!

Windows caked with grime collapsed into the streets. There, sticky floors knew once more light from out the dinge of an ever-unending half-day.

- I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK WITH YOU ABOUT THE LOGISTICS OF TRANSITIONING INTO A STATELESS SOCIETY 

The conglomerated structures which were the outflow of State Finance into the ventricles of the Imperial Palace bore the marks of Joey's wrath.

For you could see plainly the fine utility of non-contradiction which composed his thought – for to attack our allies so brazenly, no doubt – aside from further concretizing the power and influence of the Guard – would agitate any bacterial elements which had penetrated into the insulated body – inducing a heave, the channels of which might flow into the more open cesspits of Free Thought you had less cause to attack openly, for there would be more just cause for later retaliation.

– STATE AUTOPHAGY NOW

( o )

( o )

STATE AUTOPHAGY NOW

[qapsiel]

I mean bridal carry is not the only option, after all there is one that's far more efficient for carrying bodies, and less likely to cause pain Fireman's carry.

I assume you're referring to this lovely post that's about how Dean hauled Cas' dead ass into the lake house to wrap it up and all? I don't think Dean worried about pain because, again, dead and thus unlikely to feel pain, but I assume it's also about dignity? At least in my opinion, carrying someone bridal style is more dignified than throwing them over your shoulder into a fireman's carry. Sure, if you're under enemy fire and just want to haul your friend's corpse into safety, that's something else, but Dean had time.

On the other hand, Dean had always wanted to be a fireman, and Cas' booty would have been next to his face in a fireman's carry, so who knows 🤷‍♀️✌

[benk625-blog]

Mazuku

"Smells like...how you say? Rotten eggs?" Errum's olfactory membranes twitched as she inhaled. Planetary atmosphere was breathable to the entire survey team. Human away team members took care to move deliberately at ⅔ gravity of their homeworld.

"Yes." Tori Dusks agreed. "Though, it smells more like gunpowder to me." The source of the sulfuric air was a lake so large they couldn't see across. Dusks noted incredibly high CO2 levels, almost total saturation for the body of water.

"Why would you pulverize your firearms?" Errum struck a posture indicating confusion.

"Not powder made of guns. Powder for guns." Tori smiled at her friend. "It was an ancient weapon tech involving metal projectiles pushed out of tubes by explosive gases generated by combustible powder.

"Ah yes, the Terran obsession with explosions." Errum said in mock seriousness while ticking off points with her manipulator digits. "Weapons, engines, digestion based humor and my person favorite: world peace through the threat of mutually assured-" She cut off with a yelp, falling over.

"Akira, how strong was that earthquake?" Tori asked over the comm system. She remained upright, swaying slightly.  A few careful bounds and she was assisting her companion get up.

"That was an earthquake? I expected more." Errum was pleased at her ability to withstand the famous deathworld natural disaster.

"3.3, just a baby." The Japanese seismologist drawled.

"A baby?" Errum internally reassed how a convulsion that threw her violently to the ground was a "baby". Tori had hardly seemed affected and Akira was downright derisive. Then again, his homeland was allegedly a chain of islands famed for seismic activity. Movement on the water's surface and strange noise consumed her attention. 

"Bubbles? Like soda or beer?" She pointed at the lake which was in fact roiling and sputtering. 

"Shitshitshitshitshit!" Akira's comm crackled. "Helmets on now! Everyone!" He demanded. Human safety protocols insisted that away teams wear vacuum proof suits and keep helmets attached even on planets with breathable atmospheres. Errum found this to be a bit much, but she remembered a galactic axiom. 

*Never ignore Human safety protocols. No matter how often they do.*

The fuzzing became a roar as the pair pressurized their suits. The water's edge suddenly receded. Tori grabbed Errum and slammed the surprised alien into a fireman's carry. Dusks was grateful for the diminished gravity as she ran.

"Everyone has buddy, ja?" Gunter asked cheerfully between puffing breaths. Another safety protocol was to pair a human with a non-human during disaster response. The wisdom of this was not questioned by anyone who witnessed the unbelievable physical feats fueled by adrenaline. In exchange humans were supposed to be medically evaluated once the crisis passed. Humans have a tendency to stretch the duration of an emergency, however.

Akira and Tori answered in the affirmative which meant all were accounted for.

"What the Hell is going on down there?" Captain Kate's voice boomed in all their helmets.

"Limnic eruption." Akira responded. "It happens when bodies of water with high carbon dioxide saturation release literal tons of gas. They are linked to seismic activity."

"You may stop running." Science officer N'mitz droned without emotion. "You are quite safe from the impending fluid wall."

"Tsunami." Akira corrected.

"Please capture the event with video recorders. I would find the event…intriguing."

"Who made it ze farthest Kapitän?" Gunter asked. He intentionally spoke English with an accent instead of having the translator convert his native German.

"It wasn't even close Gunny. You covered almost six clicks. Your lead-ass partners only went 3.5."

"Everyone keep your bubbles on" Tori chose to ignore the comment about the running. "All that CO2 has made this whole area unbreathable."

"You knew, didn't you?" Errum asked still perched across the shoulders. Tori lowered her. "Akira called out to put helmets on because he knew about limnic eruptions. But none of you had to tell the others to run. You just grabbed us and ran."

"Well, ja! When water rushes from the shore you run in ze opposite direction. It is known" said Gunter.

Errum shuddered as she pondered the crucible that molded humanity.

[robertdowneyjjr]

Stony or rhodey/tony, Steve or Rhodes were kidnapped and when Tony finds them, the villain promises that Tony can take anything he can carry and leave safety. The villain is all smug because there's no way Tony would be able to carry them and instead will have to take a small memento or break the promise and the villain wins. Steve/Rhodes is just like Tony, save yourself! I'll be fine my love. Tony just confirms the promise before getting them in a fireman's carry

people often forget that tony stark is actually very strong underneath all the metal casing of that iron man suit. they think that because he's protected and he's got an arsenal of weaponry in his armor, he's never trained his physical body to do the work for him.

they forget that the iron man suit weighs hundreds of pounds. that it takes a considerable amount of effort to maneuver the suit, even with hydraulics installed to make movement easier. that essentially tony is doing a weights workout every time he's in it. even after upgrading to nanotechnology, which streamlines the suit and makes it more lightweight, it still takes someone with incredible levels of agility, endurance, and strength to wear the armor and continuously fight in it for hours on end.

that's not even considering the amount of physical labor tony regularly does when he's outside of the suit. he's dragged a battery-dead mark 42 from the outskirts of a remote town to a ratty old couch in an empty garage with nothing to support him except a sturdy piece of thick coiled wire. even at his lowest point, when his body was failing him, he pieced together massive chunks of cement and metal into a particle accelerator in his lab with his own bare hands.

people take one look at tony when he's standing with his teammates and can't look past the fact that he's shorter and more breakable than a demigod and supersoldier. they compare him to the others and all they remember is he's not a specially trained spy and assassin. they remind themselves he's just a regular human being, with no green monster lurker beneath the surface.

instead they think, oh tony stark can be easily taken down. his brain is his one defining feature, with his ass that won't quit coming in second place. but they don't consider that the aforementioned ass didn't just appear out of nowhere one day. tony goes to the gym and works hard on those glutes, quads, hamstrings and calves. he putters around in his workshop everyday, lifting weights in the form of pieces of steel and titanium, to tone and build the muscles in his arms.

so when a villain tells him take only what you can carry, they don't know what they're in for. he'll drop everything else to carry his whole world back home.

tony stark is strong, and people always forget it.

[winterscaptain]

take the day.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: a treat for the grown-ups in the room! this was inspired by an ask from many moons ago, and a couple of ideas submitted in the form. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, tell me what you think (and practice safe sex)! this fic contains explicit content and is 18+. minors do not interact or prepare to be blocked! also some tags aren’t working - please double check your urls below!

words: 2.8k warnings: smut (p in v penetration, [consentual & monogamous] unprotected sex, creampie, counter sex, floor sex, oral [reader receiving], very light soft dom!aaron),language, food mention

summary: “if you can’t laugh with your partner during sex, break up.” - my sister-in-law. au!november 2021.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Take the day. Nothing’s going on here and we don’t have any cases for once.” 

You tuck the phone under your chin as you pack the last of the kids’ lunches. “Really?”

Emily’s smile is audible through the phone. “Really. It’s Friday, and isn’t Hotch out today?” 

“Yeah, but mostly just to avoid the meetings with -” 

Just then, Jack rockets down the stairs, throws his backpack over his shoulder, and grabs his lunch off the counter. With a kiss to your cheek, he jets out the door with a quick, “Bye, Mom!” 

You blink rapidly, kind of taken aback by the abrupt nature of his departure. He can drive himself to school now, but he doesn’t always take advantage of it. 

“Sorry, Em. Jack just left for school like a damn tornado and I gotta get Isaac out of bed.”

She laughs. “No worries. Swing by my office when you drop the girls at preschool. I’ve got a couple of things for Aaron.” 

+++

When you return, the house is eerily quiet. 

You toe off your shoes and round the corner to the office with an armful of files in your hand. 

Unceremoniously, you drop them on his desk. “These are from Emily.” 

He huffs a laugh through his nose without looking up. “Thanks.” 

With a sly little smile, you leave him to his work. 

Padding across the hall to the master bedroom, you light the fireplace and replace your winter clothes with one of his dress shirts, two buttons holding it closed over the middle of your abdomen, and a pair of fuzzy socks. 

You’re grateful for the central heating in the house. You’d never be able to pull this off without it. 

After you sneak into the kitchen for a glass of water (you know - the ruse of usefulness), you return to him and place the water next to his left hand. He hardly looks up but mutters his thanks under his breath. 

You take your time leaving the office, just reaching the door when you hear, “Wait, hey. Whoa. Back up.” 

You don’t follow instructions, walking out of his office and into the kitchen, making play at putting lunch together. 

A pair of familiar hands slide up your thighs and underneath the shirt.

“Is this mine?” 

You hum in the affirmative. “Thought you’d like it. It looks good on you so I figured it would look alright on me.” 

“Uh huh. Yeah, well, if those were the rules I’d have to hand over my entire wardrobe.” Aaron spins you and presses you back into the island, your back arching as he crowds closer to you, his mouth hovering over your neck. “You look better in my clothes than I do.” 

You hum again, but your brain is too fuzzy to come up with a retort. He laves kisses over your neck, dropping to your collarbone and brushing his shirt off your shoulder. You decide in that moment to let go, relaxing back into the counter and giving him implicit permission to have his way with you. 

“Yeah?” He asks, feeling you sink back. 

You nod, bringing your hand to his hair and pulling him to your lips. “Yeah.” 

With a dark laugh, he turns you around again and snags your hands, pressing them to the cold granite countertop. You’re stretched taut, your legs already shaking with anticipation. 

His hands slide up your arms and over your back, the starched fabric of his dress shirt a delicious texture over your skin. He reaches your hips, his hands wandering under the hem of his shirt and hooking his fingers in the fabric of your underwear, practically tearing them over your ass and down your legs. You step out of them and he nudges them out of the way. 

He kicks your feet apart at the ankles, spreading your legs and forcing your back into a gentle arch. 

A perk of law enforcement training - some moves translate well in the bedroom. 

Or the kitchen. 

You hear him unbutton his jeans and free himself, not even pretending the last half-hour hasn’t been its own kind of foreplay. An empty house is practically an open invitation at this point. 

He runs the head of his cock through your folds, pressing against your clit with every pass. You drop your forehead to the countertop with a whine, letting the cool temperature soothe your heated skin. 

Aaron doesn’t quit rutting against your wetness, only just teasing your entrance before sliding up to your clit again. From experience, you know he could theoretically do this for hours, waiting for you to get desperate, squirmy, and whiney.

It’s working. You wiggle back against him, but his hands cover yours with a smack as he shushes you, his hips pressing yours flush against the edge of the counter. You’re sure the granite against you would hurt if it wasn’t so hot. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, low and soft in your ear. 

You swallow as his lips wander over your neck and shoulder. “I want you.” 

He hums in understanding, sucking bruises along the line of your shoulder blade. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Your answer is breathless, and you shove your fingers between his from underneath, holding on as best you can. 

“Do you know how good you look in my shirt and nothing else?”

You nod. 

“Do you know what it does to me when you look like that? My wife in my clothes?”

You don’t answer, knowing it’ll only pay off for you. He lets go of your hands and grips your hips, yanking you back toward him. It’s only an inch or so, but you can feel his cock pressed against you, the cold metal buttons against your ass, the coarse feeling of his jeans against the skin of your thighs. 

“Do you want me to show you what it does to me? What you do to me?” 

You swallow and nod, pressing your chest into the counter, bracing yourself. “Yes.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, plenty slick with your arousal - you’re practically dripping, soaking your thighs and the apex of your legs. 

Aaron slams into your heat, all the way to your cervix, with a searing kiss pressed to the middle of your back to smother his groan. You cry out from deep in your chest, drawing it out as he pulls back, dragging against your walls before filling you again, his hips audibly making contact with your ass. 

It’s rare you get a chance like this. Even at night, with the kids’ rooms upstairs, you have to be relatively quiet. Aaron, when he really lets go, can get loud, and so can you, with his encouragement. So, needless to say, your opportunities are few and far between. 

A steady stream of curses leave him through gritted teeth, watching his own hands pull you onto and push you off of his cock, bottoming out every time. 

You’re not even sure what noises you’re making, but there are a lot of them. You unstick your palms from the granite, reaching around to press your fingertips into the part of Aaron’s hip you can find. 

He leaves you then, falling out of your reach as he pulls out and turns you around again. 

Suddenly, you’re over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. 

How does he do that?

The smell of his body wash from his morning shower lingers in the air as he brings you into the bedroom, dropping to his knees on the soft rug in front of the lit fireplace. 

He supports your shoulders as he tips you backwards, sealing your lips in a searing kiss. Your hands are in his hair, more for the feeling of it than for support. 

The plush rug is warm from the fire, a stark contrast to the cool kitchen island. His weight on top of you seems to sink right into your bones, a feeling of safety and love soaking into your skin. 

Much to your chagrin, he’s still fully clothed, his pants loose around his hips and his shirt hiked up to his ribs. You find the hem and separate yourself from his mouth only long enough to yank it over his head and throw it toward the bed. 

He laughs into his next kisses, but it turns into a sigh as your hands run over his sides, pressing firmly into his waist, before dragging up his back and back into his hair. 

“Are you gonna let me go?” He asks against your mouth. 

You shake your head. “Don’t wanna.” 

He laughs, tipping your head back and peppering kisses to your jaw and neck. “Fine.” 

His kisses meander down, nosing a path past the collar and buttons of his shirt on his way to your chest. He pauses at your breasts, drawing patterns with his tongue until you’re taut and puckered under his touch. 

His hands follow his mouth, unbuttoning the two buttons you’d done up to play at modesty, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He reaches your hips and scoops your legs onto his shoulders, kissing a path down the creases of your thighs. 

When he finally wraps his lips around your clit, your hips buck into him. He laughs, sending a buzz up your spine, and locks your hips in his hands, holding you securely to his mouth. 

You resist the urge to bring your hand to your face, letting your whimpers and groans leave you at full volume. One hand finds a home in his hair while the other claws at the carpet. He could probably eat you out in his sleep at this point, what with the way he knows the pace, the pattern, the pressure you like. He’s consistent but never boring, always managing to lull you into a dull hum of pleasure, your legs shaking under his hands, before pulling something that makes you jump and whine. 

His warm breath fans across your lower belly, keeping him centered as he flicks his tongue against your clit, dipping lower to your entrance, sliding back. He sucks your inner lips into his mouth, letting them go with obscene, wet pop before pulling your clit back into his mouth, feasting on you like a man starved. 

You clench around nothing, desperate for him to fill you with anything, anything to ease the want that courses through you. There might be a moment when you ask for something, but you’re not entirely sure. 

He chuckles, a dark and smug sound, but only continues until your center starts to throb, shocking your body with pleasure all the way to your fingertips. Aaron can feel it too, running his hand up your abdomen, reminding you to relax. 

You take the note, slowing your breath and relaxing into the floor. Your grip in Aaron’s hair doesn’t budge, tight and close to the root. 

He’s determined to get you off with his mouth alone, his fingers digging deeper into your hips to keep himself on track. 

The pulse of your walls continues until the tension crawls into the rest of your body. Your shoulders pull away from the rug as your body curls forward, your hips stuttering even under Aaron’s firm grip. Both of your hands wind into his hair and you fall over the edge, chanting his name. 

Your upper body twists, your cheek against the plush carpet as you convulse under his continuing ministrations. Your hips are still locked to the floor under his hands, braced by his shoulders and held by his mouth. You can feel his smile as he rides it out with you, backing off on the pressure as pleasure rolls through you in violent, overwhelming waves. 

Your jaw seems to be stuck open, your eyes wide as you stare into nothing. Aaron slows, the strokes of his tongue long and drawn-out against the length of your sex, before stopping entirely, pressing a kiss right above your clit. 

He crawls up your body, keeping some of his weight on you as he finds your lips again. You’re still boneless, catching your breath, shaking, and experiencing little shockwaves that irregularly catch your abs.

With that in mind, you can hardly kiss him back - instead, passively letting him smother you in affection, vaguely processing the fact you can taste yourself on his tongue. You wrap your ankles around his lower back, and he finally sheds his jeans and boxer briefs. 

“You good?” He asks. 

You nod. “Mhmm.” You reach between your bodies and stroke him a couple of times. “Gimme.” 

He laughs out loud then, kissing you soundly as he slides home. 

You whimper into his mouth, your overheated flesh alive with sensation as he rocks into you, nearly frictionless. He holds you tight, his hand splayed across your shoulders underneath the shirt you’re still (somehow) wearing. 

You let your mind wander a little, combing through Aaron’s hair with your fingers and tucking your face into his neck. 

It’s been ten years with him, almost exactly. You’re a far cry from the person you were then, and you think maybe Aaron is a different man, too. 

Not where it counts though. He’ll always be that chronically-stressed, endlessly-dedicated tightass who thinks too much and speaks too little. If anyone asked, he’s still the smartest, warmest man you know. Privately, you know he’s also the dumbest invulnerable moron who ever drew breath. 

That makes you laugh, and you wrap your arms further around him. He doesn’t stop, but cranes his neck to look at you. 

“What?”

You shake your head, bringing your hands to the sides of his face, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Just thinking about you.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, his head tilting sardonically to the side as he snaps his hips to yours, making you jump and clench around him. “I’d hope so.”

Flipping onto his back, he pulls you on top of him and has the audacity to wink at you. 

The pair of you giggle and laugh your way to your destination. His laughing smothers his curses as he cums, fucking up into you and holding you flush to him by the hips. You follow him by scant seconds, bracing yourself on his chest as you drag out your orgasm, enjoying the rush and the laughter and just being together. 

When you both completely run out of steam, you lift yourself off of him and tip sideways, landing flat on your back out on the rug. 

This poor thing has seen more use today than in its entire lifetime. 

You roll over after a second, propping your head on your elbow. Aaron mirrors you, meeting your eyes. 

“That was fun,” he says. 

You nod, bringing your hand to the graying hair at his temple. “Don’t get too many chances for this kind of fun anymore, huh?”

He sighs and pulls your hand from his hair, kissing your palm and folding your hand in his. “No, we don’t, but it’s…” He thinks for a moment. “It’s nice to appreciate it more than we used to.”

“Yeah.”

+++

You twist back and forth on the barstool, watching Aaron slice an apple and some strawberries. You both did away with the lunch idea, deciding it was too much work to put something together. 

It feels awfully like your first weekend together, the only differences are in the scenery. Even the wardrobe is similar. You’re in the shirt he started in, not much else, and he’s in his jeans, shirtless and barefoot. 

It’s nice to see him wandering around with a kind of carelessness. You’re not sure any of the little ones have seen him without a shirt, not for any real length of time that they would remember. He told you once that he doesn’t want to scare them. 

You reminded him that this is their normal, too. They’ve never known him without the scars so they’ll always know him with them. The little ones don’t know to be scared. 

Still, he’s careful. 

It’s a work in progress. 

“What were you thinking about before?” He asks, rounding the island. He goes to lean on it, but hesitates. “We have to wipe down the counter.”

You snort and take the plate from him, headed for the living room. “It’s been ten years and you’ve never changed.”

He rolls his eyes and follows you, sitting down in his chair so you can sit in his lap, the plate of fruit on the coffee table. “Is predictable so bad?”

“No,” you reply, your eyebrows raised. “I was just answering your question.”

He huffs a laugh down his nose. “You haven’t changed, either, for the record.”

“Is that a good thing?”

With a smile, he pulls you gently by the side of the head, tucking you under his chin. “It’s a very good thing.” Then, almost inaudibly -

“A great thing.”

+++

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[caffeinatedbraincell]

So you asked about prompts? ;D What about Joe/Nicky + any team member cuddling for warmth? Or something about all of them sharing clothes? Huge bonus if Lykon is still part of the Guard ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you anon for the ask!! 💕 This took forever but here it is~

Read on AO3

“Whose idea was this, again?” Joe complained, readjusting the weight of the front half of the giant plastic evergreen. He was sweating and freezing at the same time, which was decidedly one of his least favorite feelings ever.

“Yeah, I wonder,” Quynh seconded from behind him, throwing Andy a dirty look.

Andy sauntered hands-free in front of them, talking animatedly with Nicky and Lykon as they walked. The three of them clearly loved the snow, though Joe doubted they would be having even half as much fun if they had to carry the tree.

Quynh spat out some plastic pine needles. “Andromache! It’s your turn to carry this, come here!”

“Pleeease babe, we’re almost home!”

“Yeah,” Nicky interjected. “Besides, we have to carry the presents!” He waved the small, sparkly gift bag at them before pointedly turning back around.

Joe muttered something in Arabic about lazy spouses with nice asses, and Quynh cackled.

“Alright, alright,” Lykon interjected, jumping in front to get everyone’s attention. “Booker just texted me that he’s managed to get Nile out of the house under the pretext of, and I quote, ‘the snowball duel of the century.’ They’re going to the mountain pass, so we have two hours to get set up.”

“Perfetto,” Nicky said. “It’ll take me about twenty minutes to get the cookies in the oven, and then I’ll help decorate the tree.”

“You better get out in less than twenty,” Quynh warned. “When am I supposed to work? Do you even know how long it takes to cook chicken?”

“He doesn’t,” Joe confirmed.

“Habibi, that’s not fair. What about that time I made-”

A long, ominous buzz innervated all of their phones simultaneously. It was an emergency weather alert.

“Blizzard warning until 2:15 AM. All inner city residents are encouraged to shelter in place until further notice. Sudden snowfall and landslides may prove deadly,” Nicky read.

“Lykon, text Booker,” Andy ordered.

“On it.”

“No use,” Nicky cut in. “They’re probably already at the mountain pass. They won’t make it back in time.”

Andy swore loudly. “Joe, get the car. We’re going after them.”

Quynh and Joe dropped the tree and ran towards the house. By the time Joe started the car, Quynh was climbing down the porch steps with an armful of towels. The five of them piled into the car and tore down the icy roads.

The storm picked up with terrifying haste. When they got to the bridge near the mountain pass, visibility was already nearing zero. Joe switched places with Andy, clambering into the passenger seat so she could take the wheel. If anything could help them now, it was Andy’s extensive experience with driving in extreme weather conditions.

As they traveled through the pass, everyone kept their eyes trained on the snowy slopes, looking for any signs of Nile and Booker.

Suddenly, Lykon cried out in horror. Only a few feet away from the road were two motionless bodies, almost fully buried in a snow drift.

“Cazzo!” Nicky yelled, leaping out of the car. “There must have been an avalanche!”

Andy shoved the gearshift into parking and followed, joining the others as they attempted to dig out their friends with their bare hands. About two minutes after the frostbite set in, they were able to pull Nile and Booker free of the drift.

“Why aren’t they waking up?” Lykon asked, a tinge of panic in his voice. Andy rubbed Nile’s wrist as she looked at her watch, attempting to measure a pulse. Nicky tried to do the same for Booker, unconsciously chanting a Hail Mary under his breath.

Quynh stepped forward. “We need to get them back to the car. The heater will warm them up and help dry them off. Come on.”

Joe picked up Nile in his arms, cradling her head. Quynh threw Booker over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. This time, they noticed neither the weight nor the cold. Their entire focus was on getting their friends home to warmth and safety.

“Joe, your coat,” Andy said as they got to the car. “It’s fleece. Take Nile’s ski jacket off and give her yours.”

Joe obeyed without hesitation, bundling her in his own winter gear and buckling her into the back seat. Meanwhile, Quynh and Nicky used the towels to dry off Booker’s snow coat as best as they could. Lykon climbed into the passenger seat, and Andy began to drive.

Thankfully, the storm didn’t get worse on their way back (though Joe seriously doubted it could get worse). By the time Andy pulled into their driveway, Nile and Booker were beginning to stir.

“Hey, easy now,” Lykon soothed, helping a dazed Booker out of the car. “Let’s get you inside. There we go, you’re okay. Just a little farther.”

Behind them, Nile leaned heavily on Quynh as she half-carried her up the porch steps. Joe paused, watching them enter.

“All okay?” Andy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as the wind whipped the snow around them.

“The tree…” Joe muttered, fazed. “I dropped it somewhere. We were going to surprise Nile, and I-”

Andy turned him gently to face her, pulling his woolen beanie down to cover his ears.

“It’s alright, love,” she said softly, switching to Arabic. “She needs a different kind of comfort from us now. She and Booker both. Let’s go take care of them, okay?”

Joe nodded, following her into the warmth of their home.

A fire blazed happily in the hearth. Someone had expanded their futon and pulled it closer to the fireplace. Nile and Booker were seated on it now, wearing large, clean sweatpants - Nicky’s sweatpants, Joe noticed - and fuzzy Christmas sweaters. Quynh and Lykon were snuggled up on either side of them, feeding them something from a thermos flask and adjusting the heated blankets.

“Room for two more?” Andy grinned, curling up next to Quynh and gesturing at Joe to sit. “What’s that?” Joe asked, sliding under Lykon’s side of the blanket and pointing at the steaming drink in the thermos.

“I made apple cider earlier and left it in the instant pot,” Lykon replied. “It was still hot.”

Lykon held the drink to Nile’s lips. She took a large sip, sighing happily. Joe made a mental note to pour himself some cider if he ever got out from under this heated blanket.

Just then, Nicky walked out of the kitchen, balancing a large tray in his hands. “Soup time! Everyone sit up, let’s eat.”

Joe blinked, wondering how his husband had had the presence of mind to immediately go into the kitchen and make soup, of all things. He himself was still recovering from the last hour’s ordeal.

Nicky tutted disapprovingly. “Boss, get changed. Joe, you too. Why would you think it’s a good idea to get under an electric blanket in wet clothes?”

Andy grimaced, throwing her jacket and t-shirt on the floor and snuggling up to Quynh in just her bra. Quynh tugged Andy closer.

Nicky turned to Joe, raising an eyebrow. “Habibi?”

Joe pulled a face. “Do you have any sweatpants left for me?”

“Always.” Nicky ruffled Joe’s curls. “My gray university ones are in the dryer. They’ll still be warm if you hurry.”

Joe got up, returning two minutes later in the gray sweatpants and a black tank top he stole off of Andy’s dresser. He hastily dove back under Lykon’s heated blanket.

In the middle of the couch, swaddled in blankets and eating soup, Nile and Booker were looking much more alive. The color returned to their cheeks, intensifying as Nicky began to scold them.

“Booker, what the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded.

“I don’t know! You said to distract Nile, and she wanted to have a snowball fight. So I said yes!”

“Why didn’t you just go to the park?”

“I thought driving out to the mountain pass would buy you guys more time. It was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

“You could have died, Book! Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we can play with our lives like that. Not to mention, you put Nile in danger!”

Quynh sat up, reaching for Nicky’s hands. She swiped her thumbs over his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “Hey, lay off him, would you? They’ve had a tough night.”

“But what if-”

“No what-ifs, Nicky. It’s alright. They’re safe. Now put the rest of that soup down and come here.”

Nicky sighed in secret gratitude. This was not a night he wanted to be left to follow his thoughts. “Fine.”

He squeezed onto the futon between Quynh and Nile, accepting the blanket Andy threw over him. He wrapped his arms around Nile, who snuggled closer.

“Nicky?” she mumbled after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“If you’re not still angry, can I ask you a question?”

Nicky pulled back to look at her. “Sorellina, I’m so sorry. I was never angry at you. Nor at Booker, really. Just a bit worried.”

“Yeah,” Joe piped up from the other end of the couch. “He gets mean when he’s scared.”

“I am not mean,” Nicky insisted. “Nile, what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Why did Booker say you wanted him to distract me? Distract me from what?”

Lykon laughed. “Should we tell her, Nicky, or do we plan to try again tomorrow?”

“We lost the tree, so I think we should just tell her,” Joe voted sleepily.

“You just don’t want to carry another tree,” Booker accused.

“Easy for you to say!” Quynh jumped in. “Next time, I’ll distract her, and you can walk a mile in the snow with plastic pine needles in your face.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Andy said, lips twitching. “No more attempts. Jesus wasn’t actually born on this day, anyway. I was there.”

Nicky blinked at her, and then rapidly shook his head to clear it. He looked at Nile. “We were trying to surprise you with a Christmas party. Remember last Thursday, when you were telling us how your family celebrated it back home?”

“Yeah.”

“We wanted to recreate all the same traditions. We got a tree, and some ornaments, and stockings with your initials on it, and, uh…”

“Presents! And that Christmas music you like,” Joe added.

“Yes, and Nicky was going to make cookies shaped like reindeer,” Quynh said.

“Also,” Lykon pointed to a folded-up tripod in the corner, “we were going to take family photos in our sweaters and put them on postcards. Copley said we can’t send them to anyone, but we could still make some.”

Booker sighed. “Sorry I ruined it, Nile. I thought- wait, are you crying?!”

Nile sniffled, turning away from Booker to tuck her face under the blanket. “No.”

“Oh, honey,” Quynh cooed. We can still do it all tomorrow, if you want…”

“It’s not that,” Nile croaked. “It’s just- You guys did all that just to surprise me?”

“It’s nothing,” Nicky assured. “Well, it’s really nothing now, but even if everything had gone according to plan, it still wouldn’t have been any trouble. It’s your first Christmas with us, and we wanted it to be memorable.”

“You’re the best,” Nile said, voice choked with emotions. “All of you. And this is the best Christmas Eve ever. Thank you.”

“Hush,” Andy smirked. “In this house, we show gratitude by not dying unnecessarily.”

“Oh, that was all Booker’s fault,” Nile countered smoothly. “I would have been content with a snowball fight in the park.”

“Really loving the underside of this bus,” Booker muttered as the others laughed.

Over the next hour, the lighthearted conversation drifted into sleepy silence. By the time Nicky thought to ask who would turn off the lights, Joe was only half-pretending to be fast asleep.

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 8

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3900+

Warnings: Language, car accident, angst, fluff, threats

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You were never the person that loved working out. You hated getting up early and going for a run, having believed that’s what most people did to stay in shape. You never really put much thought into it, but after training with Val, you gained a whole new respect for those who trained people for a living. She would take you through the process of warming up and getting your muscles ready, followed by the hard workout and a cool down. Val has really upped your confidence, too, and she isn’t afraid to push you to your limits and show you what you are capable of. 

“Girl, you’re killing it for only coming here for 2 weeks.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“I remember the first week you came, it was rough, but it usually is for everyone.  Now, I think you could kick a few of my client's asses, who have been training with me for longer than you have. You’re a quick learner, and you listen to what I am saying and want to improve your skills.”

“That’s what I am paying you for,” you chuckled, getting a laugh out of Val.

“This is true,” she nodded. “Heard from a little birdie that you got Steve into bed not once but twice. How was he?” she winked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“What? Who told you that?” 

“The guys were talking about it at work. Steve got all red in the face. It was cute.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but it’s not what you think. We were shopping for a bed, he found a good one, I ended up getting that one, and then I set it up at my place, and we tested it out again. There was no fonduing of any sort.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” She rolled her eyes. “But, if you are interested, Steve is a helluva good guy.”

“I know,” you smirked, staring at the ground and biting your lip.

“Now, if that look could talk.” Your eyes flashed to hers, spotting a knowing smirk on her face.

“I’m done talking about this.” You shake your head. “But, I’ll see you in a couple of days or sooner, depending if I want to take on the punching bag again.”

“We are always open,” she chuckled. You zipped up your bag, giving her a small hug before heading out. “Say hi to Steve for me, will you?” 

“You got it,” you shouted, rolling your eyes and walking out of the gym.

_______

“Have you talked to your girl lately?” Bucky asked Steve as they played pool at the station.

“First off, she is not my girl, but we have texted a few times.”

“Thought you would want to be more involved with her since you got her into bed twice last week,” Sam winked.

“Come on, guys, it's not like that.” Steve shook his head, fighting the smile on his face as he leaned against the pool cue.

“You're right, it's more than that,” Bucky smirked, lining up for a shot, but missed the pocket. 

“Says the one dating…”

“A woman,” Bucky finished for Steve, glaring at him.

“Wait, you’ve been dating someone?” Sam asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at him. “And this is the first I am hearing of this.”

“It’s only been for a little while.” Bucky shrugged, watching Steve hit his ball into the pocket. “She’s great; super quick-witted, a spitfire, and a badass.” Bucky smiled to himself, making Sam roll his eyes. 

“Happy for you man, I can't wait to meet her.”

“Really?” Bucky seemed taken aback.

“Yeah because then I can ask her why she is with you? Doesn't she know there are more options besides you in this world.”

“Yet, you still don't have a girlfriend with all the single women in LA.”

“I am waiting for the right one.”

“But, she'll never come”

Steve closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath when the station alarm started ringing. Everyone dropped what they were doing, suited up, and got into the truck to head to the scene.

“We have a car accident involving a Honda CRV off Topanga Canyon Boulevard. The call came in via the Hondalink after their car went off the road and slammed through a guard rail. With the heavy rain happening, it’s not surprising,” Carol stated into her headset before giving orders to the team.

On-site, Sam and Val got to work on helping the victim. She was still breathing but was unconscious. Bucky got the jaws of life and was able to get the door open as they pulled the young lady out and onto a stretcher. Val grabbed her purse from the car and followed behind Bucky and Sam as they carried her to the ambulance. 

Danvers stared at the old Chevrolet car, rubbing her lips together, trying to process something.

“You alright, Ace?” Steve asked.

“This isn’t the right vehicle. This isn’t the car that called in.”

“But this vehicle went over the guard rail on the same route as the dispatcher mentioned,” Bucky added, pointing at the car. “What are the odds two cars on the same route experienced the same accident?”

“Not likely, but the call came in via Hondalink from a Honda CRV. This car is too old to be equipped with such a system, and it’s the wrong make and model.” 

“What are you saying?”

“We have to split up and find the other car. I’m going to get in touch with dispatch and see if Hondalink has GPS coordinates for the CRV and get another ambulance here. Thor, go with Sam to the hospital and leave Val here in case we need a paramedic. Now let’s split up and search.”

Steve and Bucky started down the hill, taking each step with caution as the ground continued to get slippery from the pouring rain. Steve stumbled over a tree root but caught himself on a tree. He looked to his right, seeing a flowing river and something that shouldn't be there. 

“Buck-” Steve pointed at the river.

Bucky stopped behind him, looking out to where Steve was pointing. “How did the CRV end up…” Bucky started to say, but Steve was already stumbling down the hill, rushing to the bottom. At the edge of the wide river, Steve noticed how the whole back half of the vehicle was underwater, and if he didn’t look close enough, he would’ve missed it. The hood was visible as if it was caught on something and sitting at a slant, keeping the passenger and driver side windows afloat. 

Steve didn’t waste any time, tossing his jacket and boots alongside the riverbank, jumping in. “STEVE, WAIT,” Bucky called, reaching the bottom, fumbling for his radio. “Ace, we located the CRV in the river. We’re gonna need assistance, but Steve and I are heading out to the vehicle now.”

“We are on our way,” she replied. “Be safe.”

"GODAMMIT, STEVE, WAIT UP," Bucky shouted, noticing Steve halfway to the car already. “You and your damn impulse decisions.”

The current was stronger than Steve was expecting, but he wasn't sure how much longer the car would stay in place. "Hello, is anyone in there," Steve called, swimming up to the vehicle. He quickly assessed the situation and realized the car's front tires were braced against a rock bed. How the vehicle ended up like this; he still wasn’t sure. He looked around at the landscape, noticing a busted guardrail not far from them.

"HELP, WE’RE IN HERE," a male voice screamed.

Steve swam to the driver's side door to see a man with an unconscious teenage girl in the passenger seat, he could only assume she was the man’s daughter. There was still a big enough air pocket that they could breathe, but the water level was rising, and the current would continue to pull the car farther underwater.

"I'm Fireman Steve Rogers from the LAFD, and we’re gonna get you out of here. Are you hurt anywhere?'

"I'm fine, but I don't know about my daughter. Please help her first." 

Steve nodded as he swam over to the passenger side. He reached up to check her pulse and realized it was weak. "She’s breathing, must’ve got knocked out after crashing through the guard rail, right?"

“It all happened so fast. One second I could see the road, but then the next second, it was as if it disappeared, and we were sliding over the cliff and into the river.”

“It's okay, help is here, just stay calm for me,” Steve reassured, looking over the hood of the car to see Bucky approaching and he tilted his head to the driver's seat. 

"Hi, sir, I'm Fireman Bucky Barnes, what’s your name?”

“Adrian, and that’s my daughter Liz.”

“Okay, well, we are going to cut the seat belt from you…”

“What about my daughter?”

“Steve will do the same for her.” Bucky nodded at him. “We are gonna work together and try to get you both out at the same time.”

“Oh okay, but....” Adrian's voice drifted.

“Trust us, okay, I know it’s hard because we just met, but we’ll get you both out.” Bucky nodded his head a bunch, hoping to calm Adrian down. “We're gonna cut these seat belts and pull you both out to safety, okay?”

“Okay,” he said with tears peaking at the corner of her eyes. “Promise me, that you will get my daughter out.” 

“We promise,” Steve replied with a reassuring nod.

“And if I don’t get out of here, tell her and her mother, I loved them both.”

“You can tell them that when we get you both out of here.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Steve looked at Bucky, counting to three, and in unison, cut the seat belts. Steve was able to pull Liz to safety and keep her head above water. The car shifted slightly as Steve glanced to the driver’s seat to see Adrian still inside.

“I guess this is the part where I tell you my leg's pinned, and you tell me that you’re not gonna be able to get me out,” Adrian breathed, shaking his head. 

“Steve, get her to safety, and I’ll figure this out.”

“Don't do anything stupid until I get back,” Steve replied, swimming her to the shore where Val, Carol, and another paramedics team was waiting. 

“Her pulse is weak, but she's breathing. I don’t know if she sustained any other injuries, but she’s been unconscious since they hit the water.”

“Thanks. We got it from here,” the woman whose nameplate read Mantis answered while the big guy beside her nodded at him. They got her onto a stretcher, and Steve looked back out to see the CRV still afloat.

“Steve, you okay with getting back out there to help Barnes, or should I send Val.”

“No, I’m good, I’m good,” he breathed with his hands on his hips. “I got this,” He nodded, diving back into the water and swimming back out to the car. 

The rain started to come down harder, forcing him to squint his eyes, unable to see Bucky by the driver’s side door. He swam a little farther, and all of a sudden, the car was out of his view. “Crap.” Steve swam faster, yelling Bucky’s name, but no one responded. Once he got to the rock bed that held the car in place, he went under, but he couldn’t see anything under the water. He resurfaced for a deeper breath and dived back down. 

Swimming further down, he could see what looked like headlights on a car.  He swam closer to the front end to see Bucky working from inside the car to get Adrian’s leg free. Steve swam towards the driver's side when Adrain pushed himself out the window. He started swimming up, but Steve noticed how he wasn’t moving one of his legs. Bucky swam out the window, shooting Steve a knowing look before resurfacing. Adrian coughed, trying to stay afloat when Bucky grabbed him and started swimming towards shore. 

"You had to do something stupid, didn't you," Steve asked, swimming next to him.

“Can’t let you have all the fun,” he smirked, forcing Steve to shake his head.

________

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’m at Gas and Grub on West Florence Avenue, and a man is robbing the store.”

“Sending a unit to your area now.” You switched over and signaled the closest officer nearby. “I need all available units at Gas and Grub near West Florence Avenue. There is a robbery in progress.” 

“10-4, 1578 in route to Gas and Grub,” an officer replied as you switched back to the caller.

“Units are on their way. Is everything okay? Are you safe?”

“Yes, I am hiding on the end of one of the aisles,” the voice replied. “The man is wearing a mask, holding a gun, and yelling at the cashier.  He’s asking for all the money in the register, some cigarettes, oh a bottle of Jack, too.”

“Okay, just stay where you are until help arrives.”

“I will,” he breathed. “Shit, the cops are coming in now. Damn…they were fast.” The caller hung up, and the line went dead.

“At least this one ended on a happy note...I think,” you sighed, stretching your hands over your head. You didn’t think you would be this sore today after working out, but you were wrong. Every movement you made sent a numb throbbing pain to that area. Val really did a number on you. You took a quick sip of your water and got resituated when another call came in. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“My neighbor is listening to rap music, and I can’t hear myself think. It’s getting really annoying.”

“Have you tried going over and asking them to turn it down?”

“Well, no.”

“Why don’t you try that and then call the non-emergency line next time. No sense in calling 911 if it’s not a life or death situation.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll go talk to them.”

“Good luck,” you sighed, rolling your eyes and hanging up. “Fucking nuisance calls.”

“Hey, YN,” Bruce greeted, coming over to your station.“We have a caller on the line asking for you specifically. Are you available to take it?”

“Yeah, of course, put them through.” He nodded, typing on your computer, and you hit the spacebar. “Hi, this is 911 dispatcher YN, how can I help you today?”

“Hi, YN, it’s Nat.”

“Why are you calling through my 911 line and not my phone?” You nodded to Bruce, silently saying, you got it covered, and he walked away.

“It’s kind of a tricky situation, you see. Um…can you just come to 1917 Grand Boulevard when your shift is done, in like ten minutes? It’s important.”

“Is everything okay?

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s not an emergency emergency, but more a friend asking a friend for help, and the only number I have memorized these days is 911, hence why I called you.”

“Yeah, I’ll head that way when my shift is done.”

“Thanks, the spare key is under the plant by the front door.”

________

You pulled up to the address Nat gave you, seeing a two-story modern chic house with black and wooden accents. You walked up to the front door, tilting one of the plants, and grabbed the key attached to the bottom. You opened the front door, and the first thought that came to you was a bachelor pad, but it wasn't sports memorabilia hanging on the walls, no. It was NASA and Star Wars memorabilia. Who the hell was Nat ‘hanging out’ with?

“I’m here, where are you?” You shouted through the empty house.

“Upstairs and the second door on the right,” she called back.

“Who’s house is this? It’s like a major nerd bachelor pad. Does this guy work for NASA or something? I never considered planets to be art, but then again...” your voice drifted off, looking at some more space art on the walls. 

You pushed the second door on the right open, and your eyes widened, seeing what was in front of you. One of Nat’s hands was handcuffed to one of Bucky’s, and it was wrapped around the headboard with no way of getting out. They were both still covering the goods, but Bucky’s shirt was off, and Nat was just in her bra and underwear. 

“So, I’m a nerd fanboy with a terrible taste in art?” Bucky inquired, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Nat said, glaring at you.

Your whole body started to shake, trying to keep from laughing and only nodding your head, but you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You bent over, hands on your knees and started laughing. “I thought… I thought you two hated each other,” you wheezed between breaths, pointing at them.

“Until she realized she wanted my…”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she threatened, covering her hand over his mouth. “And if I remember right, you came onto me.”

He scoffed. “You wish.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you grab the key from my belt, right there?”

You shake your head, digging around in her police belt. “How long has this been going on?” You asked once you found the key.

“Not long, maybe a month or two,” Nat answered with a half shrug.

“A month, really? So, when you guys were yelling at each other at the bar, you were…”

“Call it foreplay,” Bucky winked, forcing Nat to smirk.

“Does Steve know?”

“Who do you think we tried calling first?” 

“Oh, so I’m second best.”

“We didn’t call Steve, YN. I don’t want his judgy eyes on me for this.”

“Yeah, we didn’t call him,” Bucky confirmed. “But, I texted him.”

“YOU WHAT,” Nat yelled, giving him a hard glare.

“He won’t care. He's my best friend; besides, he’s gotten me out of similar situations before.”

“That’s not helping your case right now,” she sighed, crossing her arm across her chest.

“Hey, Buck, is everything, alright?” Steve asked, walking in as his eyes grew wide. “When did--” he cleared his throat to keep from laughing “--when did this happen?”

“A month or so ago,” Bucky answered. 

“Nat is the woman you have been talking to me about for weeks.” Steve put his hands on his hips, shaking his head.  “Wow, I never would have guessed this.”

“You told him about us?”

“No, I just told him I was seeing this woman and how I might have a thing for her. It’s nothing.” Bucky shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, making Nat smirk at him.

“Alright, so let’s get this awkward situation over with and get you two unlocked then.” You walked over with the key in your hand, but Nat stopped you.

“Oh no! I didn’t say unlock us. I just want them in my reach. We aren't done yet.” Nat winked at Bucky, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. 

“Okay, I see how it is,” you smirked, setting the key on the table. “You two kids have fun now.” 

“Don’t speak a word of this to anyone, either of you.” Nat pointed at you and Steve with a harsh glare. 

“Scout’s honor,” Steve signaled with a soft laugh.

“No promises,” you smiled with a chuckle before walking out the door with Steve in tow. You closed the door behind you and followed Steve down the stairs.

“I will say, I didn’t think I’d see the day those two got together,” Steve added, shaking his head as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, me either,” you shrugged. “Here I thought,  Nat hated him.”

“Same.” You two walked in silence to the front door. “Doing anything fun tonight?”

“No, I think I had enough excitement for one night,” you chuckled, locking the front door and putting the key back under the plant. “You?”

“Ah, no. Heading home to watch a movie with Cosmo.”

“Ahh cute, how is the doggy doing?”

“He’s getting better, not as skittish anymore, so that’s an improvement.”

“That’s awesome. Well, don’t let me keep you away from your date. Besides, I have a long-needed shower and a Netflix browsing session to get to.”

“Browsing session?”

“You know when you just scroll through everything and can’t find anything to watch, but you find some other things to watch that get added to the list, but nothing like I need to watch this now, kind of movie.”

“Haha, I have those nights sometimes. Happy browsing, YN.”

“Bye, Steve.” you waved, getting into your car. 

_________

After a long day at work and a much-needed shower, you sat down on your couch with a bowl full of popcorn and a glass of wine in hand and turned on Netflix. You clicked through your list a few times when your phone started ringing. Glancing at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number, but it was a California area code, so you figured it was someone from work. “Hello.” 

“Hey.” 

“Who is this?”

“YN, you know who this is.” Once he said your name, you recognized his voice. You could feel your heart start to race, sending the increasing rhythm to your ears. Your breathing grew heavy and shaky, and it did very little to calm your racing heart. 

“How--” you gulped “--how did you get this number?”

“Does it matter? When are you coming home?”

“I’m not….I’m not coming home.” Your hands started to trumble, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE THAT. I DECIDE,” he shouted into your ear, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut, causing a few tears to slide down your cheeks.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. I miss you, and so do all our friends here.” You shake your head, trying to steady your breathing. “They keep asking me where you are, and all I can tell them is that you went on a little vacation with Loki, and then they ask why I didn’t go with you,” he sighed. “You made me feel like an idiot because I wasn’t with you and didn’t know where you were. Do you know what that feels like?” You gulped, trying to find the words to say something, anything, but they never came. “I’m your husband, and I deserve to know when you’re coming back.”

“I told you, I’m not,” your voice cracked. 

“So, that’s how it’s gonna be. I do this for a living, remember YN, what makes you think I don’t already know where you are?” He went silent for a moment, adding to your frightened state. “When I do come for you, you better hope I am in a better fucking mood because, right now, I want to fucking kill you!”

You hung up, throwing your phone on the couch. The hair on your arms stood up, and your hands were shaking. You pulled your knees to your chest, crying. You felt so small and weak. It felt like all the progress you made up until this point didn’t matter because once you heard his voice, you were right back to where you started; stepping on eggshells, watching what you say, trying to be the perfect couple in everyone else’s eyes. 

Someone knocking on the door makes you jump and stare wide-eyed at the door. You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes, and slowly stood up. The knocking continued to get louder, sending a dull ringing in your ears. You went to the hall closet to grab the wooden baseball bat and went over to answer the door. This is when you wish the door had a peephole or that there were windows by the door, so you could see who it was, but there was nothing to see who was on the other side. You took a deep breath and opened the door with the bat ready to swing.

________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 8, and talk about a cliffhanger! Any ideas who may be behind the door? 🤔 And what about that little phone call from her ex right before? Coincidence or am I just messing with you all!? Hahaha! Also, I hope you all are enjoying the Sam and Bucky banter, literally can't wait to get more of it once their show starts! And, finally what did you think about the little predicament Nat was involved in?! 😂😂 Anyways, I hope you all are enjoying it so far, and likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome. Thanks again!

[captainsourwolf]

*taps mic* okay hear me out

link is a clumsy college student living off ramen and mac n cheese and chips. one day while he gets some mac n cheese cookin’, he accidentally drops a dish towel on the eye of the stove. it catches on fire, he burns his mac n cheese, and runs everyone out of the building with the smoke.

he’s thoroughly embarassed, and even more so when this hot, bearded, manbun wearing firefighter shows up to lecture him about fire safety and how to properly cook mac n cheese without burning the building down. link is flaming hot and turned on by the time the dude is finished, and tbh link can’t decide what’s hotter: the sweat and smudges on his face, the couple of loose curls hanging over his forehead, or the way his biceps stretch his t-shirt to the point of busting. and okay he’s also finding the guy’s pecs pretty distracting too.

link doesn’t think he’s ever jizzed so hard in all his years than he does that night thinking about mr. firefighter busting out of his shirt and carrying link off to safety.

he looks up the fire station and finds out the guy’s name is captain rhett mclaughlin. the title of captain has link’s dick interested in 0.5 seconds. wonder if he likes to be called captain in bed? link would like to find out. in many positions. in many different places. just. get all up on that.

link is still link though and in the process of trying to make some thank you brownies for the captain the fire station, he drops the knife when he’s trying to cut them and tries to catch it and well, he’s link. he cuts his hand and fucking faints. just faints right there on the floor of his dorm room. and when he comes to it’s to the sight of a manbun and a very disgruntled face.

rhett cracks some joke about how they gotta stop meeting like this. link isn’t sure if he laughs or cries a little. he’s patched up and told to get it checked out if it doesn’t get any better and then rhett is gone. link didn’t even get to give him the brownies.

he tries again. this time he doesn’t hurt himself. he takes the brownies to the station, rhett isn’t there, and he’s severely disappointed. he goes home and jerks off to the image of rhett over him. minus the cut hand and the blood and bandages of course.

but link is link. this time he’s in the dorm lounge trying to use the microwave for his leftover burrito. he’s a smart guy but in a really dumb way, so it’s really no surprise when he suspends his intelligence again and leaves the foil on his burrito and just....look he’s an idiot okay. the microwave makes some weird noises and next thing he knows, his burrito is on fire. thankfully someone else is in there and thinks to grab the fire extinguisher while someone else calls 911.

this time when rhett comes hopping out of the truck lookin’ all manly and hot and shit it’s to a very embarrassed and blushing link. he barks orders at the others with him and then he’s coming to stand next to link with this look on his face that kinda reminds link of his grandpa when he’s pissed.

he gets this lecture about fire safety again that starts with “look, kid—“ and link puffs up and stands at his full height. he’s not a kid. he’s an idiot, but he’s not a kid. he’s a whole 22 years old thank you very much.

which okay, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about it later when he’s get a hand on himself and wondering if rhett would talk to him that way while he gets fucked. and maybe that’s the second hardest he’s jizzed, ever.

he finally gets the courage to go back to the station, this time with sugar cookies shaped like burning microwaves his friend made. it was funny at the time but now he’s starting to think it’s dumb. he’s gonna totally trash them but then rhett comes walking out in his stupidly tight shirt and stupidly tight jeans and grins real big when link hands him the plate. they chat for awhile, mostly about link’s tendency to set things on fire or injure himself. and let’s be real, the way rhett laughs all loud and hearty really does something to link’s insides.

and his hormones too but he’s a horny college student, sue him.

when link leaves he’s got a huge grin on his face and a card with rhett’s name on it.

he keeps the card in his wallet. but it’s a while before he sees rhett again. when he does it isn’t even his fault this time. this time it’s someone on his floor testing out their chem lab experiment and basically setting his desk on fire. so there’s that. but at least link gets to see rhett in for real action this time. running inside, yelling orders, coming out the other side all sweaty and smudge with ash and stuff.

if link slyly watches him strip off his jacket afterwards, then, well, it’s for science. rhett looks too damn good when he’s sweaty and post-fire and just. again, link is a horny college student. he’s pretty sure he’s jerked off enough the last few weeks to make his balls fall off.

this time rhett catches him staring. link blushes tomato red and maybe trips over the sidewalk in his haste to leave. he hears rhett laughing all the way around the corner.

eventually it happens again. jesus link has really gotta learn how to cook. his mama would be really happy to get a phone call that isn’t about her son setting something on fire. again. for the third time. along with an injury. look it’s been well established he’s an idiot. he tried to get fancy with the ramen this time, set it on fire, and twisted his ankle on the way out the door.

but it meant getting helped out of the building by rhett. so at least something good came out of it. even if it meant nearly passing out from the pain. he’s sure rhett would catch him and carry him off the premises. sixty percent sure.

rhett’s exasperated sigh says otherwise.

forty-five percent sure.

this mishap leads to link having to stay with a friend for a few days while his dorm gets cleaned. his ankle heals up just fine and he’s able to get back in his dorm in no time. he’s extremely embarassed when a knock on the door later reveals rhett on the other side. he’s got a plate of cookies—chocolate chip less chocolate chip ones to be exact—and says they’re for link. apparently when he cut himself he started rambling about cookies and wishing rhett would use his big biceps to make him some.

kill him now. please. like, just open a hole up beneath him right now and let it swallow him whole.

his mortification must be evident because rhett laughs that big laugh and invites himself inside. link dies a little when rhett brushes up against him. maybe he won’t die in a hole just yet.

turns out rhett came by to make sure link is okay. they’ve met quite a few times now and rhett doesn’t remember the last time he had to answer so many calls for one person. especially for one so cute.

link gets whiplash spinning around from his place at the fridge getting drinks for them both. say what? he stares rhett down and rhett stares him down and honestly link could probably set himself on fire with how hard he’s flushing from head to toe. damn.

it’s been very well established that link is a horny college kid. and that he has a thing for hot fireman captain rhett. and that he’s clumsy and a fire hazard but that’s not relevant to this part. so it’s really not surprising that later he finds himself getting dicked down by hot firefighter captain rhett.

multiple times.

in many different ways.

and he gets to call him captain and experience making someone jizz their brains out from voice alone. he could honestly get high on the feeling. he could also get high on rhett’s dick and how it feels in his mouth and stretching him open and busting on his tongue and later in his ass. he ain’t picky.

so maybe link’s a fire hazard but at least he’s got a hot fireman to come carry him out of a burning building like he’s some disney princess and fulfill all his fireman fantasies.

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Emergency! Part 1

Part 1 – Plane Crash

Summary: Dean and Cas are partners at Fire Station 51’s paramedic squad and are responding to their first of many. A plane crashes into an apartment complex, multiple fire stations respond to put out the fire and rescue any victims trapped. But RN, Y/N Y/L/N, happens to live in the very complex involved in the plane crash. Though unharmed, she commits her time to aid and assist in the victims coming out of the building and the plane. The rescue turns sideways on Dean when a beam drops onto Dean, damaging his oxygen tank, he quickly turns into a victim as he quickly succumbs to smoke inhalation and becomes Y/N’s patient.

Warnings: Mild angst (relationship), slight language, fluff?

Square: Firefighter!AU ( @supernatural-jackles​ Tell me a story Bingo)

Word Count: 1,784

Mobile Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: DOA = Dead on Arrival. Y/L/N = Your last name. But I hope you guys enjoy!

~

She got up at her usual time of 5am to be at the hospital by 6:30am.

Not much of a coffee drinker, she just got her a mug filling up with soda, the soda being her caffeine for the day.

She got into her scrubs, grabbing her nametag, pens and her personal notepad.

Ready to hit the road before traffic begins to pick up on the freeway in Los Angeles, she grabs her wallet, phone and keys she locks up to leave for her day at work as a Registered Nurse at Rampart emergency hospital.

Just as she got to the street to her car, there was a loud noise growing louder. She looked in the direction of the noise to see a plane, crash landing into her own apartment complex.

Ducking beside her car at the impact of the plane she was also thankful for her timing.

Quickly she dials 9-1-1.

Dean got up at his usual time of 4 in the morning to begin his 24-hour shift at the station.

Dean is a paramedic and squad member at station 51.

He pulled his truck into the parking lot, still trying to wake up.

His partner was already there.

“Cas, do you ever sleep man?” Dean asked.

“Slept on the couch again.”

“Are you and Hannah okay?”

“No, we had a big fight again last night. I don’t know what I can do for her anymore.” Cas says, defeated.

“Just end things man, you need sleep, and you need some peace of mind. I got room at my house for a roommate if you need a place.”

“Thanks Dean, but I already had plans of ending things with Hannah, last night was just the nail in the coffin of yet another failed relationship.”

“She failed it man, you did nothing wrong.” Dean encouraged.

“Thanks man.”

Dean offered a kind smile and a pat on Cas’s shoulder.

“Ready for another long shift?” Cas asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, my dad here yet?”

“Yeah, he’s in the office why?”

“Wonder if he got the invite to Sam and Jess’s wedding.”

“Bought damn time that kid popped the question honestly.”

“I know, he and Jess dated for what seemed like forever.”

“You really think they’re still sore at each other, I mean John of all people should know he can’t control what his kids want to do.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, that’s why I was gonna ask if he got it.”

Cas nods.

“I saw you put in for a three-day weekend, what’s going on?”

“Just wanting to take a trip out to the campgrounds outside of town to the family cabin, Dad says the deck could use some work and I was gonna kill two birds with one stone. Camp out and help dad fix up the deck.”

“That sounds cool.”

The fire stations alarm sounded.

“Truck 27, squad 27, engine 47, squad 47, Engine 51, squad 51, structure fire at Purgatory Apartments 1366 south Millard Ave.”

“Lots of trucks and engines responding, must be big.” Cas states. Jumping into action.

“Must be.” Dean says running to the squad truck, jumping into the driver seat, Cas jumping into the passenger.

Dean turned the keys in the ignition, roaring the Ford Truck to life, and turning on the lights and siren. Heading out onto the road, with the firetruck, Engine 51 following behind.

 “This is RN Y/N Y/L/N, I have multiple victims at 1366 Millard Ave. A plane crashed. 3 already DOA, I need help right away.” She says into the phone.

“We’re working on it; we already have multiple firestations responding to your location. Just keep aiding in the victims as best as you can Ms. Y/L/N.” dispatch for 9-1-1 says.

She continued chest compressions on a victim and did 2 rescue breaths. And checked his pulse, still no change.

She sat her phone off of her shoulder and on the ground, so she could focus on reviving the victim.

One more attempt at cpr, she checks his pulse, still no change. Placing his hands over his chest, she says a silent prayer.

“I’m sorry.” She tells the people watching over her as she worked.

“Where is your help?” a lady asked furiously.

“They’re on the way, LA Is a large ass city, and you know how traffic is in this town.” She says.

She was already frustrated with the losses she didn’t need an attitude from anyone.

The sound of wailing sirens in the distance brought relieve to the nurse as she worked tirelessly on the victims.

Engine and squad 27 and 47 being the first on the scene.

“There are people trapped in the buildings, and there were about 45 passengers on this flight. 4 are DOA so far.” Y/N stated to the captain of the two fire stations as they approached her.

“Alright, I’ll send my guys in.” Captain of station 27 stated.

“I’ll let the other stations as they come in to assist.” Captain of station 47 stated.

Another fire engine’s siren wailed as it approached.

The men jumping into action.

“Winchester!” the captain of station 47 shouts as he approached engine 51.

“What do we got?”

“Unknown number of victims trapped in the complex, 45 passengers or so from the plane. 4 of them were DOA. Oh, and she’s a nurse, thought I’d mention that she could help us out.”

“Right,” John Winchester, captain of station 51 agreed.

“Alright guys, we got to work fast, there are people trapped in these two buildings, we need to clear them out. Tran, get the engine ready so we can use the hose. Gabe, and Michael, work on the fire with the other stations, Benny, Raph, and Charlie, aide the paramedics, either from 27, 47 or Dean and Cas, we need to save as many as we can, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

“Get to it.”

Everyone went to where they were instructed to. Dean and Cas got their equipment from their truck and went into one of the buildings, full fire fighter gear.

“Dean!” John called out.

Dean stops, giving John his attention.

“Be safe in there son.”

“I will dad. Don’t worry.” He says, running in.

There were a good handful of people able to move and get to safety on their own, and another handful Dean and Cas had to carry out of the building.

One woman, sprained ankle from trying to escape hastily, as Cas carried her out she nearly flew out of the man’s arms.

“My daughter, she’s in her room!” she cries out.

“I’ll get her, Cas, get her out of here.”

Cas nods, doing as told.

Dean inspected the rooms, finding a seven-year-old girl, hiding beside her bed covered in a wet blanket.

“Hey, I’m Dean, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

The girls nods.

Dean kept a protective arm around her as they exited her room.

A beam creaked, and gave way above Dean, hitting his back.

He heard a loud pop, like a large pop can exploding.

He found it hard to breathe through his oxygen mask.

Taking off his mask and tank he saw rupture in his tank.

“Shit.” He hissed.

His lungs were quickly taken over by the smoke, he started coughing immediately.

He noticed the girl was already gone.

He tried to get up to hurry and save himself but he felt a sharp pain in the back of his leg.

He looked behind him, he saw the beam pinning him down by his leg.

Overcome by the coughing, his world began to turn black.

 Y/N finished placing a splint on the womans ankle when a child ran up to her and the group of firemen.

“Jamie! Baby!” her mother cried out, holding her arms out to her daughter.

“Mommy!” she cried.

“Where’s Dean?” Cas asked.

“A beam fell down and knocked him down. He’s stuck.” She says.

Without another word exchanged Cas took off to the apartment they rescued the woman.

The fire was slowly getting under control and it was easier to see inside the apartments. Cas was able to spot Dean out in the apartment easily.

He laid on his stomach, still and unmoving. Cas can see the beam pinning against Dean’s thigh.

He saw the beam was not supporting much of anything. He ran out, seeing Michael carrying an axe.

“Mikey, I need that!” Cas shouted.

“What’s up?”

“Dean’s stuck.”

Michael ran towards Cas and he saw Dean, inspected the beam. Saw the same as Cas, the beam not being much of importance to the structure, he begins working on breaking the beam in half.

The wood was badly damaged by the fire, he was able to break it in three strong hits.

Once he was free, Cas picked Dean up and carried him out over his shoulder fireman carry style.

Once he reached the nurse, she prepared an area she could work on Dean.

“Is he breathing?”

“He didn’t have his mask on, the tank was damaged.” Cas answered.

“More than likely smoke inhalation, lay him here and I’ll start working on him.

He did as told, laying him flat on his back.

She checked his pulse, and breathing, matching up to the fireman’s statements. And began chest compressions.

After 35 chest compressions she gave 2 rescue breaths. And checked his breathing, he’s breathing but it was shallow.

She placed on an oxygen mask over his mouth.

After ten minutes or so of the mask being on him, he began having a coughing fit as the air returned back to his lungs.

“He’s gonna be okay but we need to get him to the hospital, need to check out that leg.” Y/N said.

The men and women of station 51 nodded, agreeing with the nurse.

 Later that night as she made her rounds, she walked into Dean’s room.

“Good evening Mr. Winchester, how are you feeling today?”

“Sore.”

“That’s expected having a beam pin your leg down, and the smoke inhalation.”

“You saved my life, thank you, Miss….”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N. And it’s no big deal, all part of the job.”

“Right, saving people.”

“The family business.”

“You’re family work here?”

“Yeah, my mom was head nurse at this very hospital, and my dad was a neurologist here. I was basically born and raised here.”

“Nice, my dad’s captain of station 51.”

“Awesome. But other than that, no pain at the moment, you don’t need anything?”

“No, just a number.”

She smirked, with a nod.

Writing on her notepad, her number. She ripped the paper out, handing it to him.

“Call me sometime, Winchester.”

He held the paper, unable to hide the wide grin.

“Definitely will.” He says as she walks out, continuing her shift.

~

Are you excited yet? I’m posting as I write this, probably a bad idea, but story of my life. Like what I got so far? Let me know, ask, reblog. Feedback is fuel. :3

~

Dean girls:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @jayankles​, @mlovesstories​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @jeaniespiehs20​, @akshi8278​, @lyarr24​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/18/2021

[maastrash]

Fighting Fire with Froyo

oh my goodness hello friends plz dont roast my title bc @verryberriess already has LOL it is ✨quirky✨ anyways the first fic back is always rough to write and i got tired of editing so without further ado ... 

Nesta pried the uniform hat off her head and wiped the dripping sweat from her brow. By the cauldron, it was burning up today. It amazed her that the frozen yogurt wasn’t melting right out of the machines. That probably wasn’t even possible, but the heat was making her delirious. Of course on the hottest day of the year something was wrong with the AC. She added calling the maintenance guy to her 5-page long mental list of things to do after her shift today. 

She truly did not have the time to be working on the service line today. The Archeron sister froyo shop had opened almost a year ago and already she was talking to people about expanding it to become a chain. That’s what she should be working on instead.

Nesta supposed she should be happy their little shop was so popular. The sisters had been so nervous when they were finally able to launch their yogurt shop after years of planning. It was a dream come true. 

They named it Archeron Delights and it became one of the most popular dessert places in Velaris. Elain was the mastermind behind the frozen yogurt recipes. People came from all over the country to try their unique flavor combinations. Feyre was in charge of all the interior designing. She remodeled the entire space and made it look modern with colorful signs and trendy photo taking spots - a necessity for kids obsessed with instagram worthy pictures. Nesta was the official manager which meant she dealt with finances, hiring the team, making schedules, and other administrative duties. 

To be honest, Nesta never really worked at the counter, but Morrigan their newest hire, and Feyre’s best friend was sick with the flu. Definitely not a good idea to put her near customers. To make matters worse, the shop had been extremely busy today so she didn’t have time to take any breaks. Unlike her sisters, Nesta was already not the cheeriest service worker. It’s why she worked in the back in her quiet, private office. 

At least she could distract herself by filling out their monthly budget summary while waiting. However, her calculations were soon interrupted by the cheerful bell dinging, meaning the shop door was being opened. Damn another customer. 

Nesta began quickly finishing up the section she was on, “Hi I’ll be with you in one -”

“You need to get out of here,” the customer interrupted. 

Nesta’s smile dropped so fast. Who did this man think he was?

“No, you need to get out,” she snapped back without looking up from her papers. If he was gonna speak to her like that she was gonna take her sweet time. 

“Excuse me I -”

This time Nesta interrupted. “This is my shop and I say you need to leave.”

“Ma’am if you would let me explain -”

“Stop calling me ma'am, you have no right -” This time it was Nesta who trailed off.

She finally looked up to see a man equipped fully in firefighter gear staring right at her. Shit. She just yelled at a fireman. To make matters worse he was handsome. Extremely handsome. 

“There’s a small fire in another location 2 units from yours. We’re containing it, but you still need to evacuate,” the man explained.  

Nesta was still gaping. It seemed she was unable to form words. How was this man so attractive? He was wearing full protective fire gear and wasn’t even breaking a sweat and here she was, literally dripping. 

To be quite honest she couldn’t tell if she was sweating because of the heat or the fireman’s burning gaze. 

“Ma’am can you hear me? Ma’am? Oh for goodness sake.”

Before Nesta knew it she was being lifted off her feet. Literally. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she exclaimed in surprise. 

“Ah so you can still talk.” 

“Put me down you oaf.”

“Oaf?” he raised a brow, “That’s a real nice way to thank the person saving your ass.”

“I’m serious,” she said crossing her arms angrily. 

“Let’s get to safety first.”

Nesta gave the man a withering glare, but he continued to carry her bridal style to a tent where it seemed other shop owners were gathering. 

“Oh my goodness Nesta are you hurt?” Aelin asked as they approached.

Aelin owned a dress boutique in the same plaza and they often grabbed lunch together. She was Nesta’s best friend. 

“No I am being harassed,” she deadpanned. 

“She means saved,” the firefighter corrected as he finally set her down. 

“Woah he’s hot,” Aelin whispered in her ear. 

“Shut up or I’m telling Rowan.”

“Just an observation” Aelin laughed. 

The man gave them a polite smile before heading back towards the rest of the firemen. 

Nesta stopped him before he got too far. “I want to talk to your boss,” she said sternly. 

“You mean the captain?” he asked. 

“Yes.” Obviously. 

“Why do you need the captain ma'am?”

“Stop with the ma’am, I’m serious.”

“Ok fine. What’s your name?” 

Nesta stayed silent. 

“Ok then, sweetheart. Why do you need the captain?”

Nesta growled at his stupidity. “I am not your sweetheart and I am reporting you for inappropriate behavior.”

Something like amusement crossed his face, but it quickly vanished, “I see. I’ll be right back then.”

For someone about to lose his job he did not seem the least bit frightened. 

***

It was only a few minutes before the man returned. He was still wearing his fire pants or whatever they were called, but the protective jacket was gone. Now he wore a tight shirt that read Velaris Fire Dept. It framed his muscles a little too perfectly for her taste. How was this man real?

“The captain is busy at the moment but I will take your complaint and hand it to him myself,” he said, pulling out a pen and paper.

“How do I know you’re not going to rip it up as soon as I leave?”

“You can watch me hand it to him once we have this mess sorted out,” he assured her. 

“Fine.”

“First I will need your name.”

“Nesta Archeron” she grit out.

“Nesta. I like how that sounds.”

She rolled her eyes. This man was absolutely insufferable. 

“Ok, now your phone number.”

“Why do you need my phone number?” 

“So the captain can contact you about this issue, of course.”

She grabbed the paper from his massive hands and scribbled her number down quickly.

“Ok and what are you complaining about?” he asked, clearly amused.

She rolled her eyes, “You already know what I’m complaining about.”

“Well, I need to write it down word for word,” he said, laughing softly.  

His laughter was the last straw. “You know what this is ridiculous I’m going to find the captain myself,” she said, stomping off. 

“That’s gonna be hard to do sweetheart,” he called after her. 

“Oh yea, why?” she yelled back over her shoulder.

“Because I am the captain.”

That stopped Nesta dead in her tracks. She turned slowly to see the big oaf smiling. 

“Cassian Nazari, Captain of Station 17,” he said, extending his hand.

“Are you playing a game or something?” she scowled, slapping his hand away.  

“No,” he chuckled softly, “Just doing my job.” 

“By pretending to not be the captain and stealing my information?”

He smiled again and half of her wanted to slap him, but the other half was tempted to kiss him. What was wrong with her?

“I take complaints seriously. So seriously, that I would like to hear all about your complaint over dinner.”

“This is not funny,” she said crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Don’t tell me you’re not interested. You took one look at me and were absolutely speechless. I literally had to carry you out before you burned to death.”

“The fire was contained, evacuating was a formality you brute.” 

“If you say so,” he said sarcasm lacing every word. “I’ll pick you up from your shop at 6.”

Nesta’s jaw dropped, the audacity of this man was astounding. She paused before answering, debating her options. She figured she could either continue pretending to hate him or just give in. Gods above, was she actually considering this?

“Say yes you idiot” Aelin whispered.

Nesta flinched in surprise. Where the hell did she even come from? 

“Are you kidding I’m not going anywhere in this.” Nesta argued, gesturing to her work apron and leggings. 

“I think it looks great,” Cassian said with a wink. 

“Me too,” Aelin added.

Nesta gave Aelin a deadly look before saying, “Let’s meet at the Sidra at 7. That way I have time to change.”

Cassian only looked surprised at her suggestion for a second before agreeing, “Ok, I’ll see you there.” 

He waved before heading back to the rest of his crew and Nesta against her better judgement waved back. 

“Nesta Archeron, are you smiling?” Aelin teased as soon as Cassian was out of ear shot.

“Shut up. I am absolutely not,” she said, quickly bringing her face back to neutral. 

And then it hit her...

She was going to dinner with Cassian - a fire captain she just met. What the hell was she thinking? 

tags! @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @julesherondalex // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5 // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict  // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // // @perseusannabeth // @acourtofmarauders // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlovex // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour  // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit // @superspiritfestival // @wannawriteyouabook // @verryberriess // @courtofjurdan // @bookstantrash // @sannelovesreading // @ahappyhistorianreader // @cass-nes // @my-fan-side // @junsuichow // @sleeping-and-books // @yumna402 // @lordof-bloodshed // @emcarstairs578 // @gisellefigue08 // @maybekindasortaace // @starborn-faerie-queen // @empire-of-wildfire // @loveofbooksandwine // @sanakapoor // @silentquartz // @a-omgnaomithings-love // @aimee1602 // @jlinez // @creamcheesechicken // @steamedlattes // @sahsahprova // @elriel4life // @ireallyshouldsleeprnrn // @rowaelinismyotp // @thegoddessofyou​

[uniasus]

fic rec! 12K mission fic featuring Lance at his best

Summary: Lance runs into trouble getting kids to safety, and just his luck he left his bayard in Red. He just has to hold out until a nearby Blade can help him out.

Comments: Lance is at his spazzy best here. The hurt is mild, and the bulk of the fic is actually Lance getting rescued and hitting off with the masked Blade so well he asks him out to help him get over someone, only for the Blade to be, you guessed it, Keith. (That's not a spoiler. That's literally in the official summary of this fic on Ao3).

Honestly, Keith doesn't even talk until like, the last third of this fic and it's impressive how much Lance reads into everything like fireman carries and wound care. Also, Lance is the best protector to the little kids here.

Whump is mild, Lance still kicks ass and is a partner in his rescue, but Keith totally just launches himself into the fray with a bomb and that's a bit much, even for Lance.